


Behind the Door

by Dreamsoda



Category: Dragon's Bait - Vivian Vande Velde, Fire - Kristin Cashore, Graceling - Kristin Cashore, Original Work, Shadow of the Colossus
Genre: F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamsoda/pseuds/Dreamsoda
Summary: She stood again and knocked fiercely on the door, "What do you expect me to do in here?"The talking outside the door stopped and she heard someone chuckle before Hiro's voice came again, "Rot."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's inspired by so much, the characters are marvel characters turned OCs turned ??? so I mean, if you read it I'm sorry. It's fan work in some kind of weird stretch of the imagination. It's all kinds of things, and it hasn't been edited in forever. There's...like eleven original chapters with around 34k words and I'm working on updating it after that. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Cecil left her brother's room, quietly shutting the heavy door so as to not disturb his sleep.

There was nothing that could be said now to change her mind...he still burned and tossed with fever and there were troops to lead.

Her advisors called out adamantly against her, defaming it as unwise and foolish. She was the Queen, who would be there to rule the country if the misfortune were to come that both she and her brother were to perish?

She merely replied that if she were to perish as would all of the armies of her enemies.

 Nothing could be said to change her mind, no one was to know the King was near on his deathbed. She decreed that she was now acting King and would ride into battle in her brother's stead while her brother would be referred to all as the Queen. Word would not get out that the King was ill.

The king's steward held his tongue as he dressed and fitted the queen, tucking her long hair into a hood, fitting her brother's armor over her body.

She stood two inches taller than her younger brother and her body was soft and curved, but under his armor it was impossible to tell that it was her.

When she left she rode her brother's horse.

And when she spoke to the knights who filled her army she spoke in her brother's voice.

Despite her brazen determination to fill her people with bravery, she was afraid.

Cecil was trained to run the country, she could make snap decisions and no one dared defy her commands, but she was not trained for war. The very few men who knew it was the Queen, not the King, advised her to stay away from all battles, be a figure, not a fighter, lest she die in her first battle.

And for she followed their wishes to the very letter for the battles, very far away and watched.

No it was not then that her life was in greatest danger, it was while she was moving her troops from their field encampment to the rocky hills and the abbey beyond a pass through a valley when her life was in its greatest danger. 

There was no warning, no subtle clue to the ambush that knocked Cecil from her horse and into the cruel arms of a huge man, screaming in his devilish language. She could sadly make out every word he screamed as she was forcefully thrown forward and forward again, behind her fighting and screaming voices alerted her that the ambush had not just been on her.

She caught a glimpse as she was thrown onto a horse behind the man who had captured her of her army behind her fighting valiantly the men who had descended from the rocks and trees. The ambush hadn't been successful, despite her capture and quick withdraw from the battle, her army fought forwards after her until they were a brief sound in the distance. There was a small collection of men and this was where she was thrown to the ground. Before her she recognized an un-armored man as the prince Hiro who had started this fight with her kingdom.

Then forcefully thrown to the ground before him she realized that she was to be murdered here and now, before the army behind them could catch up to them. Cecil looked up to see the prince himself drawing his sword, commanding that he would desire to watch the light's fade from the King's eyes. And then someone ripped her helmet and hood roughly from her body, knocking her to the ground her hair flying about her head.

"You're a woman," Hiro exclaimed, confused and taken aback, momentarily considering that perhaps they hadn't gotten the King at all, merely a decoy, yet he paused, smiling cruelly, "You're the Queen, aren't you."

Cecil held her tongue and her head, terrified, but never giving her hated enemy the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Even as he touched her face and pulled her head back to examine her. She had met Hiro before formerly, if she could recognize him surely he could recognize her instantly, yet he still took his time, squeezing her cheeks together, pursing her lips, laughing at her.

He gathered  her hair into a fist, pulling her to her feet, "I want her bound and safely escorted from the battle, no one is to harm her," he commanded, tossing her against two men who immediately restrained her arms. They wasted no time biding her to a horse and disappearing with no hope of her troops catching up.

First she was paraded through a war camp in nothing but Hiro's cloak, her body barely hidden behind it. She could only hold it to her body and walk, nothing to defend herself from the grabbing hands and disgusting gazes. After they had spent they one day of rest in the war camp, she was properly dressed and sat on a horse with her hands bound to the saddle. They were but a day from the castle and a messenger had been sent before to tell them of their arrival with the "special" guest. They entered the castle town as a parade, she was led in behind Hiro and advertised as his conquest. Her eyes never once opened to see the faces of the jeering crowd.

It seemed to her she didn't open her eyes until she was sitting before Hiro near alone in a room. In reality it had been several days, water had been thrown on her to simulate her being bathed, she had been pushed in cold, damp rooms, and dressed.

Now here she was.

"I will not marry you."

 "I didn't ask," Hiro snarled, "Be quiet."

 "I will not marry you, you will not inherit my kingdom," she laid out plainly, her hands resting cupped in her lap, Hiro glared at her from where he sat across a luxurious room filled with colorful tapestries and carpets.

"You have no army, they fell to my sword, you'll keep your mouth shut."

"My army did not fail, your ambush failed."

"I captured you."

"Even if you had killed my brother as you had hoped, my kingdom would not have fallen. "

" Be quiet!" Hiro pounded his hand on his chair, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes, she couldn't quite be certain why she was sitting in this room alone with him. He hadn't even spoke to her yet,  she'd been the first to speak which seemed to really ruffle his feathers. She could really only assume she was here so that he could intimidate her, flash his feathered tail and impress her. It was fairly entertaining to see him sit before her and have it be clear that he had taken special detail to try and appear intimidating to her. She was astoundingly unimpressed, amused, but unimpressed. Cecil also made certain to wear her underwhelmed opinion of him distinctly on her face, her eyebrows barely cocked and her face resting in a neutral, borderline bored, position. She wanted to make it abundantly clear to Hiro that he could wear a fur cloak, rich velvet, and any amount of jewels and she could be in black smock and she would still be more grand than him.

"You're a vain woman," he spat diverting his eyes from hers, she had done nothing but stare directly at him, daring him to return her gaze, he'd broke.

"So what if I am."

"Quiet, I'm talking."

"Fine, you may talk."

He glared at her  while she continued with her neutral face, fighting the urge to smile. Her unwavering gaze was a dare, go on, talk, I gave you permission. Cecil would be the first to admit she made several bad decisions in her life, she would classify fighting in her brother's place among them, but not this moment. No, this moment was the pinnacle of showing Hiro how little respect he commanded, how little she feared him. Watching as he deliberated her words over in his mind and considering if he should talk as though she had said nothing or if he could somehow possibly work his way around what she had said.

In the end he left the room.

When she was alone she smiled to herself and nodded her head. She would have stood up and examined the room, however she was smarter than that. It didn't matter, though, because before she could become bored enough to walk around and inspect his riches, Hiro returned with two armed guards.

They forced her to her feet, surely there to escort her somewhere.

As they led her out of the room with Hiro behind her she spoke up again,

"You're a man aren't you, Hiro?" She spoke in a soft voice, just audible to the men surrounding her, "Was it too daunting a task to escort me yourself?"

"Be quiet," he seethed behind her.

"It appears to me--" she started with a coy smile to herself  "--that I must be far scarier than I realized."

"Silence," he grabbed a handful of her hair and shoved her forward making her stumble, "No one cares for what you have to say."

She winced from the pain and caught her feet again, quickly regaining pace lest she be dragged along by her hair. Cecil held her tongue as she was led through the castle, uncertain as to where she was being taken exactly, however it was not to the dark lower rooms that had been infested with disgusting things, she was continually climbing stairs with Hiro behind her. In this time that she held her tongue she considered her position to herself. If she were to continue to demean and insult Hiro there would be a chance, even if he did intend to marry her, she would be a slave and never freed again. However, if she were to turn on herself and become almost subservient to Hiro he would easily be swayed and tricked.

The idea in and of itself made her ill, but it seemed like the best way to get what she wanted from Hiro, which was eventual freedom.

 Although, she reasoned with herself, she wouldn't have to start groveling at his feet immediately, make him think that he was proving his grandness to her or perhaps she was learning her place.

Perhaps he would fall in love with her, trust her completely, believe the lie that she had fallen for him...and then she would slit his throat in the night like she did to her tyrant father so many years ago.

 She hoped her life would not come to that, not that she opposed killing Hiro and inheriting his land, more that she despised the idea of waiting years for Hiro to eventually perhaps trust her and then waiting even more for her chance to kill him. And if during this entire mission word were to get to her that her brother had died and she had not been there to see him to the otherworld-- she doubted she would be able to continue a charade for her freedom. In the midst of her thoughts, after climbing a seeming infinite amount of stairs, she was pushed roughly from behind and stumbled down a step into a very dark room illuminated by a single small window and the door behind her which shut as soon as she caught her bearings.

"Hiro?" She called into the near darkness.

"Do you like your new home?" Hiro's voice came obscured from behind her, she twisted her body on the floor around until she was facing the door, she could just see his cruel gray eyes leering from behind a head height hole cut in the door, "This is where you're going to live for the rest of your life." She blinked trying to focus her eyes, but his face disappeared before she could retort anything. Barely she heard him, "Barricade this door, no one is to go in or out unless I directly command it," she scrambled to her feet and went to the door to look out the head height hole, but she realized it was six inches above her head, the room she was in was a full step below the outer hallway, "I want a guard posted at this door at all time as well and at the base of the stairway."

She kneeled so as to look under the large gap between the floor and the base of the door, but all she could see was boots and Hiro's slippers. She stood again and knocked fiercely on the door, "What do you expect me to do in here?"

The talking outside the door stopped and she heard someone chuckled before Hiro's voice came again, answering her simply, "Rot."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guard at his station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so old I think I wrote it in 2014.

To be frank, the job wasn't nearly as interesting as it had been spelled out to him.

The head of guard had explained it as a grand honor that Ze would be revered for and him being chosen showed how much he was already respected and trusted in the castle.  
In reality he was stuck high up in a stuffy tower doing nothing but staring at the opposing wall for twelve hours. A really boring twelve hours. Getting exceptionally acquainted with the gray stone walls and the crushing feeling in his chest that he wasn't getting air in his lungs was not exactly his idea of 'grand honor'.

The rules were sorta vague as well.

No one but his highness was allowed in the door, but certain people were allowed near the door. but not all of them could look through the window, all of this was void if they had a hand written sealed note from his highness.

But there were two sets of guards, the two guards who guarded the base of the stairwell and Ze, wouldn't there have to be two written notes? Ze could read, but could the other two guards read?  
And then there was the big question...which was: who was behind the door? He'd probably asked that question six or seven times before he'd just given up hope of ever knowing. All he knew for certain was his highness had someone that he didn’t want anyone else getting near except for himself.

The first week of guarding the door was exceedingly boring, but he discovered he was completely by himself for large chunks of time and if he positioned himself just so he could near sit on a ledge designed to be a mock shelf in the wall, but it was perfect height for him. If anyone came up the stairs he heard them long before they saw him and he just had to stand and act as though he hadn't moved for the past six hours of his life and really the only people who ever came up the stairs were the ones who delivered him water and whoever was behind the door food at midday. Ze usually took half, if not more, of whatever was going through the door, whoever was behind the door didn't need the food like he did. Not that there was anything worth taking usually anyways. All the meals that had been delivered so far had consisted mostly of a chunk of bread and water, sometimes something else was tossed here or there, a meat pie here, a bowl of stew there.

Ze really didn't take much, just enough to quell his boredom and his hunger.

Despite being boring and suffocating, the job was not as bad as it could be, that is, until the second week started.

Ze was sitting, half dozing off when a loud pounding jostled him awake. At first he was terrified, thinking he'd been caught sleeping and someone had come to off him, but then the pounding came again and he was certain it was coming from behind him, more notably from the door.

"I know you're out there."

The voice was starkly female, soft, almost gentle, yet sounded terrifying at the same time, in the same way a river was simultaneously beautiful and dangerous. She pounded on the door again, "I heard Hiro, curse his foul name, himself say you were to exist, I've seen your silly yellow hair, I simply want to talk to someone."

Ze rolled his eyes, so there was actually a person in there, although someone had been returning the tray every evening with the cup of water completely empty, but they hadn't spoken until now. Although she seemed to be on first name basis with his highness, probably why she was in there in the first place for all he cared.

She banged again on the door again, much gentler now, "I am bored."

Ze found it astronomically hard to feel any sympathy for this woman, however, now that he knew for certain that whoever was behind that door wasn't actually a monster he was curious. All he had to do was take a peek through the window and catch a glimpse. He was currently a foot or two from the door, a single step and a quick glance down and his curiosity would be quenched and then he could go back to ignoring this wench and hopefully go back to sleep. He deliberated if there were consequences, and then told himself there were none and took a step forward and cast his eyes down into the room.

At first all he saw was blackness, his own head casting a shadow into the almost completely black room, he considered to himself that this was no way to live, but mostly he just wanted to see who was talking. He continued to stare into the darkness when, much to his displeasure, a face appeared almost as though from nowhere, just two eyes and white skin appearing from the darkness, popping into his view.

It startled him to the point he jumped and took a step back before regaining composure and reclaiming his position looking down at her. All that peeked out from the window were her fingers gripping the door, her nose, and her narrow, slanted blue eyes. He noted with slight disgust that she was an easterner, she had a slight accent now that he considered it to himself. It was also apparent now the reason she had appeared from nowhere was because of her starkly black hair blending into the complete darkness around her. Despite being from the east and probably some kind of prisoner of war he noted that she was fairly beautiful, in a way that kind of disgusted him, he felt a sudden, intense hatred towards her, due mostly to her piercing stare which hadn't yet blinked at him. It intimidated and unnerved him.

He felt a weird sort of frustration from this, he was a man she had no right to make him feel small when she was the one trapped in a room with no light, not even tall enough to look out the window, he felt a strong, inexplicable desire to defile her.

"You are the one they sent to keep an eye on me," she remarked almost disdainfully, her eyes flicking up and down, "You must feel very grand about yourself. Did Hiro himself ask you?"

He watched her with cold eyes, considering, moving his jaw in thought, she continued to stare and her eyes were just asking for him to press her to a wall and teach her respect, how dare she look at him like that, no fear, no humility, no respect. Stepping closer to her, Ze looked down at her, trying to intimidate her, but she just continued to defy and stare, showing no fear.

She opened her mouth to talk again and he stopped her by spitting directly in her face.

Her face disappeared, a hand retracted to touch her face and he smiled smugly to himself; her eyes reappeared, a new fiery anger in them, face wet with his saliva, again he smirked to himself proud of his work, she disappeared and he couldn't help but grin, thinking he'd properly put her in her place. He went to turn away, casting a last glance at the window just in time for the fist that socked him directly in the cheek and knocked him hard to the ground.

"You think you're a big strong man?" Came her voice after a moment, although it notably sounded as though it had retreated slightly from the door, "Spit directly in a woman's face because you think you can get away with it will you? Coward."

Ze struggled to his feet and touched his face gingerly, she had a ring on her one of her fingers and he could feel the indentation where it had made contact with his face. Fury swam through his body and his desire to rip open the door and teach her a lesson for ever laying a hand on him was almost overwhelming, but the door was barricaded with a bolt so heavy it took two men to lift it. There was also a strong desire to tell her exactly what he thought of her and what he'd do if there wasn't a door.

However, he didn't say anything, not even to voice his thoughts on her obvious retreating from the door, he felt like that was a worse punishment for her. It made sense to him now, as he held his tongue and seethed, she'd spoken up from loneliness and desired someone to talk to, well, he wouldn't indulge her.

"I see why you are the one they placed here," she continued, "I had thought perhaps you were maybe a special soldier, designed to drive me mad, keep a special watchful eye on me so that Hiro may learn my secrets and try to slowly destroy me with his games, but that isn't even the case--" she laughed, making his blood boil and his desire to overpower and violate her grow "--you're here to be out of the way, you were a burden and you needed to be put out of the way, somewhere where you can't trip and spoil all their plans. And here I believed I would have special treatment, but no, just a donkey placed as far away from anything of importance."

Ze gritted his teeth and balled his hands in fists, leaning his head back against the wall in annoyance.

"Perhaps you believe it's me who is the pathetic one, but has it crossed your filthy mind that I am the one who requires three guards and must be kept in this darkness, Hiro fears me so much that he keeps me locked away, in the darkness where he cannot see me, but who fears you?"

He sniffed, considering her words, against his better judgment.

"I was captured and humiliated, yet here we are. Terrified of me, none dare touch me, even the light fears me--"

He sighed heavily, this was how things were to be now, huh?

"--You fear me."

She continued to talk until her food came, stopping specifically moments before the carrier brought the tray. He purposely took her entire loaf of bread and just left the cup of water. The carrier gave him a nervous look, but set the glass through the gap between the floor and the door and left.

He waited silently, to see if she would remark on how she wasn't to be fed today.

Her footsteps padded over to the door and all he heard was an scarcely audible sigh. He smirked to himself and began to eat her loaf of bread. Behind the door was quiet shuffling, he glanced over at the it, still extremely pleased with himself. The shuffling continued and after a moment a hand appeared under the door, feeling around as though the carrier had forgot to slide the tray in. Ze watched as it searched around for a moment and then another soft sigh, the arm retracted back into the darkness, his pleasure doubled as the woman accepted her defeat and the padding of her feet disappearing into the room.

To his pleasure she remained as stonily silent as she had been before.

When he finished his time standing before the door and he made to return to the barracks the night guard stopped him, laughing, "What happened to your face, Crowe? Accidentally hit yourself with your sword?"

All his pleasure from stealing her food was diminished, there was a deep purple bruise on his face, clear as though he'd been punched right in the cheek, as he had, "Mind your own business," he snarled, storming down the tower stairs.

He'd managed to take her food and make her hungry, but she and her single action against him continued to humiliate him without her even being near to enjoy it.

If that woman is ever freed from that room, he reasoned with himself as he lay to sleep late that very same day, I'll take special care to wish herself dead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get dicey, dub/con warning

Cecil had never been one to talk, ever, really.

She talked to her advisors and to her brother, occasionally spending an odd moment to pass a word with a nearby interested soul, but never one for idle chatter. Never one to fill empty space with the air from her lungs. Especially not when air was near the most precious thing to pass around her.

However.

All of her power had been stripped from her and all manor to entertain herself and comfort herself had been stripped from her. Talking was her only weapon and her only refuge.  
Looking from the window, which was narrow and had no glass or bars, only quenched her thirst in knowing that time still passed, people still moved. she hadn't ceased to exist, fallen to death without her knowledge.

Before all her time had been spent in the smallest patch of light watching the world continue without her, powerless, but now her time was spent on the stone floor, leaning against the heavy wooden door and tapping lightly every now and again to garner the attention of the day guard again.

"I really do think your hair is silly," she enunciated, she was certain her voice carried, Hiro had not yelled when he had commanded the guards and she had been fair into the room, she was certain a normal, non-royal tone could be heard from beyond the door, "When I said that before it was not just to gather your attention or to infuriate you, I was stating a simple fact. Which is that your hair is silly. Never in my life have I seen such a fool to proudly wear his hair yellow as that."

He never answered her, which she was sure a cretin like him had nothing to say that she desired to ever hear, yet she did desire to hear the voice of another human. Though he didn't speak, he often let out impatient huffs of air, and, despite how Cecil despised his entire existence, did bring a calm to her heart.

"All of whom respect themselves and garner a shred of respect have dark hair, if not black. Dignified and simple. Hiro has ridiculous hair as well, brown. Not even a lovely shade of reddish-clay, brown, no he has a dribble of mud across his face and down his neck. Who would care to ever have that?"

She, being one not to often talk, had to have long periods of silence before she could continue. It was also discouraging not even hearing a sigh or a puff of air, but silence. Her solution to that was to tap on the door periodically, but even that was uncertain. She’d never been so desperate for attention.

For unclear reasons she could only talk and use her voice when it was just the day guard, she knew the exact time her food would be brought and she always made certain to be quiet. It wasn't that she chose her voice to be a special gift, nor did she believe that he was the only one deserving of her voice, she couldn't quiet place the exact reason she had chosen the guard and the guard alone. The night guard, she'd noted after a day that the guards of her door did swap, the other guard did not have the luxury of her forever drawling.

Four days of near eternal talking and the loudest reaction she'd gotten from the guard was loud kick to the door, which startled her, but didn't quiet her.

No, actually, quite the opposite, it made her push harder, she felt if she just talked enough eventually he would talk back.

"Do you know of the man who discovered that numbers can be used to make pictures?" Cecil droned, "And the reverse as well, pictures could be used to make numbers."  
Silence.

"Very fascinating," she continued, quite disgusted with herself, she was certain that the guard had never held a book nor read of the fascinations. Her disgust came from her willingness to teach this fool, merely by half listening to her drabble he would soon become either the fool of the castle or the one with answers and intelligence, "A similar man discovered that music could also be mathematical. I doubt you've ever been near a piano with your filthy peasant hands, but the piano contains 11 sets of 8 keys all pitched exactly the same. Except! Each key has a specific length of string which when the key is plucked a mallet is to strike that length of string and create a certain sound.

"It is still a work, the string and the mallet don't always create a uniform sound, you see, each set of key is supposed to resonate an exactly similar sound except thrown higher or lower in pitch, such as you and I may both speak at the same pitch, however I speak in a delightful hushed sound common to those who command respect and you speak in a very high, squeaky voice. Attributed to the teen boy passing through his years and ascending to manhood, which you will probably never reach given by your appearance it does appear you're grown in time, however you simply do not seem to have reached even a slight semblance of manhood--"

She paused in her longwinded and sloppy speech on the creation of an instrument she and many others didn't quite understand to see if he had anything to quip about her blatant disregard for any respect he thought he might command in manhood, but he did not have anything to say causing her to un-pause her speech and continue on about how mathematics was applicable in their lives and that the greater invention of such was to be pursued and well regarded.

Cecil held onto the topic until she had near bled it dry, she continued on with the topic for several days, she would remark on points she had brought up the day before and discussed and fleshed out ideas she had passed over, all in an underhanded way to insult him.

The reason she clung so to the topic for so long, and after the aforementioned four days, she talked for seven whole days about the construction and mathematics of instruments and music in general, yes, the reason she did such things was because the desire to trail into much closer subjects was particularly strong and hard to fight. She continued to contemplate and act as though it was certainly the case that the guard was indeed there for Hiro to spy on and eventually win all her secrets from her.

There was an enormous sense of loneliness growing inside of her and she yearned to talk of her home castle and the things which brought her great joy in her youth, the place where she was sat and read to of all these things of math and music and art, her brother, even her personal horse were all topics she would rather indulge in, but give Hiro a single ounce of fodder and she, already perched upon unstable ground, would surely topple.

Her isolation in the tower had made her long for things she had separated herself from so many years before to set herself as the dignified Queen.

Never before had she spent a day in such complete, disconcerting darkness, let alone a fortnight and four days. Not a day in her life had been completely devoid of other human voices, audibly talking to her, talking in her own language, talking at all.

She longed for simple things that before had never been even a simple want in her life. She longed for touch, a laugh, a gentle voice. It had crossed her mind as she spent the eighteen empty nights laying in the bed trapped with her in this tower that all of this would be bearable, the silence, the isolation, the darkness, all of it bearable if she were not confined as such. It had also crossed her mind that this was not the worst form of confinement, having been in a dungeon herself, this was remarkably cushy, but still insanity inducing.

The afternoons spent with a quiet, solemn walk through her garden, just a simple thing that now she spent hours questioning if she would ever experience such tranquility that she romanced into those memories. All that remained for her were stumbling walks through the near blackness, around the single table and chair, the vanity with its broken mirror, and touching the blank tapestries which hung from the walls.

It was near impossible for her to hide this vulnerability in her chattering, but she tried. She experienced her pain and longings alone, privately holding her memories to herself and continued to subscribe to the prattling of all the scholarly, vague things she could remember.

The morning of the eighth day she decided to start a new topic, or at least attempt to.

"As much as I have enjoyed our endless discussion about the implications of numbers and the wonders I think they could do to the world, I do believe we are due for a change of subject from the topic of music," as she silenced, there was an audible sigh, almost of relief, as though her talking had been nothing but annoyance to him. She nodded her head, "What are your thoughts on the use of linear lines and the horizon to gauge where one is on the earth in relation to a well made map? I recall frankly a very interesting piece recorded by a particularly brainy traveler who had invented such an object which could tell him his precise location on the earth and such mathematical equations. It was quiet interesting, however, as I asked for your thoughts, I honestly imagine this may be a topic that I should have to flesh out for, say, minimally, seven full days, although I will realistically aim for another fortnight before you will have a basic gras---"

"If you continue to talk I will cut out your tongue."

Cecil was stunned into silence, her mouth still ajar ready to form the rest of her interrupted sentence.

The voice had certainly been his, but this was the first noise other than breathing she had received from him and now there was not only words, but a full sentence!

Her amazement was contrasted by her full denial that it had happened, however, she stood from her spot leaning against the door, sitting upon the floor in order to fit her feet on the step between the door and hoist herself up in order to look through the window.

The guard was standing across from her, his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose and he looked greatly annoyed. His eyes closed he didn't yet realize she was staring at him, she decided to use this moment to assess if she should really truly fear him or not.

He had no sword or knife, or she could not see one, she could hardly see the room about him, there could be a knife or sword leaning against a wall, but that didn’t mean she needed to actually fear him. She considered him further, he was surely strong, for the tower was sweltering in the late fall air the sleeves of his tunic were rolled as far as they could bear on his arm, revealing the taunt muscles that would otherwise have been hidden.

"You don't have to cut my tongue out to silence me," she spoke, causing him to lift his demon dual-colored eyes to her. They narrowed at her as they had done when he'd first seen her, startled by her sudden appearance. She had not glanced at him since that first sighting, she hadn’t felt a need, nor a desire to, "All I require is an answer every now and again, your sighs and kicks really are not quite enough."

His face distorted from that of annoyance to sharp rage. As he pushed himself off the wall and made his way to her she considered for a just moment to step away, she fought against the fear inside her, she had to show him that she was a force. Unstoppable.

They stood face to face again, as last time it had ended in his disgusting display of dominance and her reply which had set him in his searing place, even under the other guard whom she heard his clear mocking of.

She stared brazenly into his eyes, blinking slowly to display how she held no fear for him.

His face contorted into a snarl, his jaw clenching, she just continued to stare.

"Whore--!" he screeched, ramming his fist against the door, she flinched, her head jerking just so from him. She returned her eyes, indignant and furious, "Know you're place," he seethed through his gritted teeth.

Her eyes burning to his she did as she did before when he had tried to throw her to his filthy level, she pulled away from the door just so, enough to wind her arm, just as she made to throw her punch she caught him, flinching and stepping away.

Cecil paused mid-throw and appeared back to him, "Still hiding behind the door flinging your filthy, weak insecurities--"

"Bitch--" he spat, snarling. She made to step calmly away, as though she didn't fear him, but as she turned to disappear she felt a snag and suddenly there was a sharp pull of her hair, dragging her upward and back, pressing her body to the door. A thin blade was pressed to her neck as she danced on the very edge of the step just on her toes, hands gripping her hair, wincing and whimpering, trying to free herself from his tangling grip, "What should stop me from slicing your throat right now and being done with your very foul existence?? Hmm??

"Or--" he snarled, the blade moving from her throat and before her eyes as his fingers pulled at her mouth, his fingers filling it, "What should stop me from ridding myself of the worst thing to offer of your body?"

She choked and struggled to free her mouth from him, thinking wild lies, anything to consider him sparing her life.

"Oh? What is it? You want to talk?" He mocked her, his fingers intruding further into her mouth, she shook and convulsed, gagging at his fingers, her head shaking from side to side to free her mouth. Her hair proved again against her as her twisted it in his hands and pulled her further into the window.

As he did this he released her mouth, she coughed and shook her head, his arm retracting from momentarily, she heard the knife clatter to the ground and his hand returned, traveling down to her neck and enclosing around it. Cecil all but was choking as he squeezed and held her still. She could feel his face pressing against hers, his stubble scratching across the furthest edge of her cheek, "You whore—tramp—" he muttered bitterly, dragging her further back still, his hand unclasped around her throat, yet instead of retracting, his arm extended further into the window, reaching as far as it could.

She jerked away, both gasping for air and desperately fighting to keep his hand from her body as she knew it desired to violate and grasp, "H-Hiro—your lord—" she struggled to breathe, "He killed two men for looking at me when I was naked in his presence—aaAH—" she cried as he yanked her hair harshly, "Wh-what if he were to hear you attempted to kill—or to violate me as so—" her struggling was meaningless as he roughly fought his hand beneath her smock. Squeezing he roughly before pulling her body upward harshly, she realized as he did so just how strong he really was, she was fully off the ground, held only in place by her hair pulled backward and his firm wrapping arm around her body.

"I won't kill you—" she felt his lips move as he murmured, "You're a whore—not worth a mercy death."

In her last frantic attempt to stop him she loosed a hand from her hair and pulled harshly on his arm, causing him to drop her, her feet slipping on the step and she surged forward, forcing the guard to lose grip of her hair.

Cecil stumbled further hard onto the ground, her head knocking the top of the window as she fell, then landing hard on her elbows and knees. Her mind would have been fully ready to collapse and try to forget his hand reaching over her body, but it went to the knife and a turn on her head saw that it was just within reach under the door—

His hand appeared as he knelt, taking it and spinning it around his fingers as he did.

"Whore—" came his voice again, slightly breathless, "Hide behind this door, when this door is gone—I'll murder your body slowly, you'll wish I had killed you now."

"Come murder me however slowly you desire," Cecil retorted shakily, holding surely to the lie she had built in the midst of fear, "Did you not hear me, you beast, two men merely looked at me and Hiro had their heads cut off, come murder me, whatever you would ever desire to do to me would never amount to the pain and humiliation the world would subject you to for crossing your hideous, demon eyes at me."

"Be quiet!"

"You coward," Cecil spat getting to her feet, feeling the sores and aches overcome her body, "You don't know who to fear, the worst kind of fool," she spat it, but she found her feet backing away from the door, her voice would soon be nothing to him, she could see him turn a glance to her, however sure she was that she had faded into the blackness, she shuddered away from his glance.  
Perhaps she would be silent...her refuge was found in the bed where she curled into a pile of blankets.

This was not the touch she had been longing. Now she never wanted to be touched again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More violence ahead, no it doesn't get any better than this for a while

He could have killed her! He could have killed her right then and there, but he'd been foolish and greedy and stupid, stupid, stupid! Now Ze couldn't look at the door without being reminded of how he'd tried to lapse forward in his plans of violating her, he'd taken such trifling bait.

And it was all that whore woman's fault, whore.

Whore. Whore. Whore.

She must have planned it, bait him, patiently waiting until he snapped and then she tempted him further with her foul, disgusting body—words, she'd tempted him with her words, spitting in his face, insulting him over and over. Driven him further, entangling him in her filth—if only he hadn't dropped her! He could have taken—no, no, the door...the door would eventually be thrown open and she would be at his mercy and would beg him to stop and he wouldn't, he would have his treat and for her entire existence, she would respect him.

He despised her, intensely, there was a bottomless pit of hatred for her.

His temporary weakness to her pitiful mouth and his stumbling into talking and giving her exactly what she wanted was not going to happen again, not until he had his hands buried in her long hair, around her neck, his body pressing to hers, her voice whispering his name, pressing him further—

He had dropped her! He had her in his arms, her body just of reach and then she had spoiled it, she had moved. If she had just stayed still—, he'd heard her, she wanted more, she was egging him further. All of it, even now, was just a ruse to have him, force his lust for her filthy body.

Her soft, supple body.

The days following were filled with her silence, she had retreated in her pathetic wallow and had been quiet, days, nearing weeks. During this time of silence all the thoughts rolling through Ze's mind were exclusively of her body; intruding thoughts of how he had skipped too far ahead in his plans and fallen to a trap were quickly washed away with the memory of his hand on her breast, filling his hand, squeezing, feeling her softness. Her quiet whimpering in his ears as he attempted to bring her closer to him, arms wrapping around her slender body.

The sweet smell of her hair and skin, his lips pressing against her face.

With each swelling memory he balled his fists, the cursed door!

His only relief from the ever plaguing, frustratingly pleasurable memories was his ever relenting anger and his only relief from the anger was to pound furiously upon the door. A single sporadic pound was all he could do to vent and display his unquenchable desire to rip apart the door and have his way. Frustrating still, when he pounded upon the door from inside, just so, he could hear her gasp, a breathy, hushed noise that only made him covet her more. All he could do was lean his head against the door, resting his hands on the bolt he could never lift by himself. This was all so encompassing, he even thought and dreamed about ravishing her as he lay in his bed, he couldn't recall how much time had passed before she started her talking again.

"And if I were to say I think it would be very important to have such an invention if you were to explore the world, that is why I had such respect for this traveler who created the invention in the first place," she continued as though no time had passed at all, spitting her idiocy in his direction.

Her breaks between speaking were shorter now and she near only paused for food.

Before, his punishment for her talking would be to take the food, however, after feeling her body he never wanted her to shrivel away lest he never feel the softness he craved with a disgusting desire. No, he couldn't take her food. However, the desire to take something from her, display and work his control over her...it had to be fulfilled. She could endlessly display herself, mock him, pretend she wasn't scared of him, but what could he do? His silence wasn't a satisfying steal from her, he needed to dominate her, prove to her that she had to submit, be his.

Not with her food. Not with her water.

Something.

For now all he could do was seethe and plan, if the door was to ever open and he were to have his chance he would force her submission. All he could do was wait.

Her blathering meant nothing to him, he had to use what he could to get information otherwise.

Chatting with the other guards was his first and only current idea, spending all his time away in the tower or indulged in his mind he was not certain how to go about getting information in the castle.  
"The woman in the tower," Ze started, deliberately sitting next to one of the other guards, Edward, as they began their dinner, "Why is she there? Why are we guarding her?"

Edward shrugged, "I heard she was a woman his highness fancied who had rejected him. Locked her in a tower until she changed her mind."

Considering that before her supposed lies she had spewed, that did file in accordance, however, "No one ever visits her, wouldn't he want to see her if he fancied her as his wife?"

"Maybe he visits at night," Edward said between chewing chunks of meat pie, "Have you seen her?"

"Just her hands as she returns dishes from the carrier every night," Ze lied, sniffing indignantly, "She talks, though."

"Do you answer her?"

"No."

"That's probably the game," Edward shoved a roll in his mouth, "She's lonely and wishing for attention, think about it, how would you feel to go months without anyone talking to you?"  
“I don't follow," Ze frowned skeptically.

"His highness has her isolated and alone, desperate for attention, what more does she want but someone to talk to? Along comes his highness to give her everything she has been stripped of, she falls instantly in love. His forever."

"Do you think that would really work?" Ze asked, incredulous.

"Sure it would, but who knows if that's why she is even up there," Edward shrugged once more and nodded his head, "Richard was one of the guards who escorted her up there, talk to him or perhaps try flirting your way around the kitchen, if you think you can," he laughed causing Ze to flush angrily, "All the lasses have probably heard of your blundering attempts for romance by now."

Ze furrowed his brow and stood up quickly, knocking the table as he did.

"Oh, don’t be such a cock, just take it, it's all in good fun--" Edward started but Ze was already on his way, storming his way from him in search of Richard.

As he looked he considered the information, Edward thought her lonely? She certainly did not have the air of loneliness about her, just a haughty, full of herself air that desired to belittle him and prove herself more respectable than he. But if what Edward proposed was true he could give in just give her the attention she wanted, making her want him in return—

No! He didn’t want to fall prey to her, become her tool in achieving the things she sought, no! He wanted her to fear him, respect him, comply to his wishes and gratify him! He didn't ever wish to play her games for even a moment, if he were to fall to her trap again, be her fool he would never live with himself. No. He would not. She would bend to his will soon.

He found Richard preparing for bed, but he allowed Ze to talk to him as he did so.

"What is so special about the woman in the tower?"

"The tower? The woman his highness put there?" Richard repeated redundantly, "What of her?"

"Who is she? Why is she there?"

"Who knows? Who cares? She is foolish enough to insult his highness to his face, yet has a look of beauty enough to keep her alive. His highness probably wants another jewel for his crown, a fairly large jewel she was," he smiled to himself, "Cut out her tongue and I would have found her a very pleasing woman."

" I would thin—"

"Held herself like she was the best to offer," Richard cut him off, "Probably why she's in such a place, a woman with such vain pride and carried herself like she needs to be disciplined. His highness was surprisingly lenient with her, just told her to hold her tongue, which she did."

"She did?"

"Shut up with a slight jar from behind and didn't speak until she'd been thrown in the tower. Felt the need to speak up how she didn’t deserve to be there, whore women, all of them who don't know their place," Richard shook his head and Ze exhaled in frustration.

What was the difference between him and his highness? How did she respect one man, but not another? He was furious.

"I don't know who she is, though, just some woman his highness dragged back from the war," Richard stretched and looked at Ze, "I don't think anyone but his highness knows who she really is."

"No one?"

Richard shook his head, "Gossip is that she's a noble, might've guessed by how she walked, but from what estate is a question no one can quite answer."

"No one," Ze simply replied before leaving him for his own bed.

Neither of the men had answered his question, but the idea of talking to the gossiping servant women made him feel ill. Edward's fowl quip about his infamous ability to speak with women was unfortunately true in a way, he could speak to them just fine. Hold a conversation, spend time with them, but he couldn't court, and he certainly couldn't use his charms to get information out of the women. They would never pass their gossip on down to him.

He'd hit an impasse and all he could do from this point on was wait, and use his time waiting as time where he would be able to think.

Scratch that, it was near impossible to think, if not truly impossible.

"Perhaps if we had a proper map and if I were to have a proper lighting I could use the equations I've attempted to remember and scrawl across the ground here with the chalk I found we could measure visually the distance between the mountains and where we stand."

He felt his temple, she was on a particular roll that day, of all days, having been ecstatic to have found that piece of chalk, since she had the day before there had been nothing but scratching and her explaining to him the baffle she had just supposedly written down.

"Mathematics is amazing, numbers correlate with everything we do, we can be explained with numbers, it's finite. Foolish men, such as yourself, believe numbers to be a man made invention, thus faulty, but! Not so, isn't that the best?"

He did his very best to not audibly groan, he hardly knew what mathematics was, let alone how it applied to everything in existence.

Worse, she continued to talk and he attempted to drown her away as done previously, but simplicity of thinking of other things was no longer a feat he could accomplish.  
All his thoughts were plagued with his daydreaming.

It became easier, to his frustration, to listen to her prattle rather than become angry that she was just right there, but the door—always the stupid door!

The only pleasure there was in the door was sneaking towards it and banging upon it and hearing her jump and the chalk scratch across the ground where she was writing. It was best to hear her try to quiet her disappointment or anger, that was his favorite part.

On the third day of her and the stupid chalk, she was busy talking to herself and writing away, he was extremely tired of hearing her talk of math and the sound of the chalk on the stone.  
Ze snuck to the door and waited for her speech patterns to slow as she became entrenched in what she was writing, whispering numbers and letters to herself as she did so, when her mutterings became as focused as he believed they could be he pounded loudly upon the door. He grinned to himself as he heard the chalk skitter, but to his further delight she cursed in a foreign language and smacked her hand upon the ground.

"That was the last of my chalk, how dare you!"

"Serves you so for your blatant disrespect of me," Ze said proudly, not thinking to stop himself from talking, he forced a curt laugh, he had done it, he had taken something from her, now she had to respect him, grovel to him.

Her gasp of disgust from behind the door was a sound he never believed would be heard, he stepped from toe to toe, energized from his conquest. A proud smirk crossed his face, he felt a swell of joy.  
A soft, sad sigh followed, and he froze in his joy.

"You have caught me," she began, quietly, "I have only brought this upon myself, how I believed I could break you," she paused to make a gentle, breathy sound. Ze could feel his heart palpitating in his chest, he caught himself holding his breath, waiting for her to go on, "If you would let me--I would like to show my submission to you, please, stay where you are."  
His eyes flashed to the window, was she going to appear or would she present her hand or, or, or—

A wet slapping noise brought his attention back, in surprise he looked down at his foot to see her chalk covered hand on his foot, rubbing slightly, at first he thought this was her way of kissing his boot, however, that was before he saw the gray stain that was being saturated into the worn leather.

"Bitch—!" He spat, lifting his boot and aiming to bring it down on her hand, but before he could try, she retracted and laughed.

"How is that? Do you feel my undying respect for you?"

"You've ruined my boot!"

"Oh, have I?" She asked innocently, "I didn't realize, I was attempting to grovel, is not that what you wished for?"

"Don't make fun of me, whore," he cursed, stepping away from the door. She laughed, causing his fury to boil, balling his fists and raising his shoulders. All he could do to keep himself from lashing out and telling her all his desired plans to befoul her body was to clamp his mouth and seethe.

Her laughter died away as she retreated into the room. She clearly feared him, why did she not just admit it!

He raised a fist and brought it hard down against the wall behind him.

But as he nursed his wrist he remembered something.

It was all about tempting her to reveal her hands from beneath the door while not speaking or pulling her out himself.

After he realized how easy it would be he felt foolish for how long it took him to follow his eyes to beneath the door as she returned the tray, bowl, and cup all neatly stacked every evening. It had taken him two days after she had stained his boot to catch on to exactly how he would get exactly what he wanted from her. Or at least the first thing he wanted.

She had great trust in his disinterest of her food, he had naught bothered with it before, sure, he'd taken her food, but she didn’t know about that. However, Ze didn’t think he could hinge on that so soon after such an angry shared affair.

The woman did not make the same mistake twice, since he had lapsed in judgment and attempted his desires through the obviously small door window she had not looked at him, not even just a quick glance. Him hinging on her trust in her meals might bring a downfall to his plan if we was sudden. He would sooner die than be overcome by this whore again. He would show her, she was not the only one who could be patient.

One week, he decided after the time had passed, was not enough. Two weeks, he considered, was maybe enough, but he could muddle past one more week of her infernal talking to make ascertain that she trusted her meals. One day into the third week, the days were getting colder and shorter, her food getting heartier, he took the tray from the carrier and set it down soundlessly where he had been training her the past weeks.

The first week her food had been placed just inside the door as always done before, but slowly he started taking the bowl or the cup of water and setting them just outside the door. At first she tentatively took them, but as the week wore on it became more bold as he continued to leave her be.

When the second week came it became the entire tray set just outside the door, easy to slide in from inside, he'd watch her hand greedily as they extended to take her food, extending more and more each time. She never seemed to notice her meal was slowly training her to reach her cold hands out further and further onto Ze's side of the door.

Now, a few days into the third week, he set her food too far for her arms to reach, but just so. He heard her approach to get her meal and as she did he stepped aside and hid just out of her view, waiting.

After a moment her hands appeared, extending slowly, he had to wait, he could see it, but he had to wait until they were as far as they could reach and then he'd—he'd—  
She made noises of concentration as she found the food was just out of her reach, as she continued to try as Ze brought his boot down hard on her right arm. She shouted in pain and quickly started to retract her arms, fighting out from beneath his boot, but he had prepared for this.

Before her hand could disappear forever her grabbed her wrist and sharply tugged her arm back into full view. She attempted to struggle and he despised to admit that she was indeed strong, however, he was stronger. He yanked her again, a dull thud responding from her skull striking the heavy door.

She groaned and was still for a moment and he used this moment to inspect her hand and the blue cut ring fit perfectly to her ring finger.

"Isn't this pretty," he drawled, unfurling her fingers which had balled in response to him grabbing her, as he did she came to again and started to struggle, pulling furiously from him. He snarled and yanked her hard against the door again, but this time it wasn't nearly as effective and she continued to struggle, "You—" he began as he brought her hard against the door again "—need to learn—" and again "your place!"

Again.

And Again.

He stopped to only be certain he hadn't killed her, she let out shaky moans and her arm twitched as he spread her fingers open.

"As I was saying," he cooed softly, "What a beautiful ring," he spun it thoughtfully around her finger, teasing her, "Does it mean something to you?"

Her fingers attempted to close around his hand and her arm tried to retract, "No—" she started, and he could hear the tears in her voice, he smiled to himself.

"No? It means nothing to you?"

"It's mine—" She tried again, fruitlessly, weakly pulling from him, letting out crumbling breaths, heavy with tears.

"If it means nothing to you, as you say," Ze spun the ring one last time before beginning to slide it off her finger, she again tried to ball her fist, but he easily slid it off and held it safe in his hand, "Why should you keep it—"

"Return it—" She sobbed, thrashing her arm, her other arm reappearing and grabbing at his legs and searching for his hand. He rather enjoyed her hands on his body, but he loved her sobbing, desperate voice more.

"I think I could use this, perhaps sell it to a pawn get myself new boots, isn't that a fair exchange for these you have ruined?"

"No! No!" She sobbed loudly reaching still, "No! That is all I have! Return it!!"

"I don't think I shall," Ze smiled to himself, letting her hands grope over his body for just a moment more before he stood.

"No! It's my only possession!" She cried bitterly, her arms sliding off his body and onto the ground, still reaching for him, "My brother had that made for me, when he dies that is all I'll have to remember him, I'll have nothing! I need it!"

"No, no, this is mine now," he spun the ring between his fingers before balling it tightly in his fist so he would never lose it. Her arms pounding against the ground for a moment longer before retracting back to her side. She continued to sob and pound on the door.

"Return it!"

"Hmm tempting," he brought her ring to his smiling lips, almost thoughtlessly, "But you said it meant nothing to you, why should I return it?"

He pressed the ring gently to his mouth as he listened with glee as she pounded against the door and sobbed.

"Please, please," she begged, pounding slower and gentler on the door, "Please, it's all I have, please."

Ze stepped pleasurably from foot to foot, grinning to himself, her ring still pressed to his lips, he had the ultimate power now. And he would revel in it with his return to silence.  
Her sobbing and ever slowing taps on the door were his reward for patience.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More violence U_U;;

She'd been a fool, she'd been stupid and foolish and how could she let this happen! 

Cecil felt it had been strange for her food to be so far, but she hadn’t considered the motive! It never occurred to her to question just why it was getting further and further, she could hardly notice it! 

She had prided herself that up until that moment until her skull was being repeatedly struck over and over she had yet to shed a single tear about this situation, despite being well known for being a baby crier. 

When she lay in bed and dreamed of her castle and her garden and her brother she had held her tears, she had reserved them, no weakness. The days following his hands grabbing her body, being dropped, yes, even then she had held back. No tears, no weakness. 

Yet...days had passed since her ring stolen and not a day had passed where she did not weep. As though a scale had been tipped and broken inside of her. Her teeth chattered from her sobbing, her eyes burned. 

The day after she had wedged a shard of the mirror free and cowered in the small patch of light from the window in the wall, looking at her face.  
Bruised, burst, and swollen. 

Her skin had broken and blood had streamed down into her eyes and she had nothing but her dress to wrap it with. The mirror shard was a weak tool to cut a rough cloth with, but that was all she could do. She winced as she wrapped her head, bumped and broken as it was. 

Her hands were chipped with frost, sudden cold had come and the tower easily went from stuffy and hot to near freezing, her breath puffing in front of her some mornings. Her hands too chipped to cut and wrap with any precision. 

Her eyes were red and pitiful, she recalled her past beauty as a cruel joke, it was still there, just underneath the swelling and stained cheeks soiled with dust, skin thinned from the coming cold and passed heat. 

Cecil had been stripped of every glory she had ever held. Her dignity soiled with the men who had flung her naked body, her pride crushed as she groveled, her power stripped by fighting from behind a door. All of it had been cruelly cleaved from her body and torn to pieces. 

And the last thing she had managed to smuggle from the battlefield to this room had been stolen from her body.  
It was hard to put yourself back together again after you had broken. 

When before the things which had been stolen from her had only been thoughts she refused to humor, now they echoed inside of her, growing, snowballing, becoming a monster of proportions Cecil could never fight. She repeated to herself that nothing had changed, she was still in an equal status of freeing herself, she still was reliant on someone bringing her food, talking to herself. Nothing had changed but her finger now held nothing. 

Yet...that was it. That was the one thing keeping her from wallowing. The months that had passed so ever slowly were faced with the that little ring. With it now gone it was impossible not to feel alone and small and cry. The thoughts that had been easy to disregard weren't anymore. 

Had her brother passed on? Was Alex dead? 

If she was here and Alex dead, who would ascend the thrown? Would her country be thrown into chaos all because of her lapse in judgment? Were there people in her own castle that had been waiting for a time like this? 

Was Alex dead? Was Alex Dead. Was Alex dead—

She snapped. And from the midst of the broken halves that had split stepped someone who wasn't going to break, she was going to take back what was hers. No more. There was no more accepting fate, accepting the hands that had violated her body, accepting the minds that undressed her, no more bowing her head and passively trying for the things she desired. She couldn't sit and fester, she couldn't wait for things to get better, it was time to take things into her own hands.   
Be blood or no. 

There were a lot of discarded things in the room, the vanity held things like brushes, old cloth, towels, which she had set aside for exclusive use when and if her monthly cycle reared its ugly head, there were broken bits of things she'd never seen, more brushes, shoddy, half molded make up, and more. 

There was a broken table, an old chair, three-legged stools, a dresser, the vanity, an armoire, a wardrobe, and boxes and crates full of everything and nothing. She had found the chalk discarded on the floor, under the bed there was a chest full of musty dresses and blankets, old clothing, styles she had never seen before. New things were found every day when she spent time searching through the discarded drawers and under furniture. Among the useless and the broken there was a present. 

A metal hairpin, long, her own hair pins were sharp, this one was old and dull, but that didn't mean anything to someone determined for destruction as Cecil had become. It was a gift, she sang it's praises quietly to herself as she sharpened its end on the stone walls. 

She had done her time being patient, her weapon didn't have to be perfect, none of it had to be perfect, it just had to work. 

The three-legged stool placed before the door, the sharpened tool twirled between her fingers. No more letting him gloat with her crying voice, no more of the quiet begging at the door for her last possession, no weeks of planning. Today. Then. Now. 

It was particularly quiet, her food already had, a perfect time to put into motion her plan to take this scum who stood humming to himself outside her door and return him to reality.  
First she banged loudly upon the door, rudely catching his attention. 

She was certain it had when his humming had stopped and an annoyed grunt had followed. 

Next she stepped upon the wobbling stool and clasped her fingers around the edge of the window as she had done many times before. This would pique his attention and he would become curious, maybe eager to come close to the door, thinking he would catch her off guard, thinking he may get lucky with her body again, thinking anything so long as he came to the door.   
She heard his boots shuffle and then there they came, the following footsteps as he made his way over, slowly, either weary or teasing. As the footsteps neared she retracted her fingers and hid in the darkness just out of sight. 

After a moment his shadow filled the room as he peered in, she could only see the very edge of his face, but he didn't seem to be able to see her. He scoffed and made to turn, this was her chance—!  
Before he could get out of reach with one hand she made a fistful of his hair and yanked, he cried out as he was pulled hard against the door, with her other arm she wrapped it around his throat holding him in place. 

Releasing his hair she held the pin to his throat.  
"What should stop me from killing you?!" She hissed violently, "Should I stab this into your throat and laugh as you slowly suffocate to death?"   
He gagged and his hands made to rip her arm away from his throat, but she pressed the pin hard into his throat, and he stopped.   
"Who would care if I were to kill you? Why should I let scum like you live?" 

He moved again and she pressed it harder into his throat. He shook his shoulders and pulled again on her arm, he was breathing in empty gasps, she could physically feel him struggle for breath.   
"You think I'm foolish and weak, why don't you continue to resist and we'll see if I can really kill you," she spoke much calmer, whispering into his ear, "I'm going to kill you no matter what, but I want to hear why I shouldn't." 

He tossed his shoulders slightly, coughing, struggling still. 

"An excellent point," she tightened her grip around his throat, pulling him through the window as he had done to her, "You're right, there's nothing you absolute trash, I—"

"Y-your ring—" he spluttered, barely audible. 

"This is more—"

"I st—ill ha-have it—" 

Cecil was momentarily floored, he still had it? He hadn't sold it—he had kept it, it wasn't gone? But that moment passed and was replaced with rage. 

"Return it! NOW!" 

"C-can't—"

She jerked hard on his neck thrusting his head against the door. "Return it—!" 

He turned his head and started to thrash against her, pulling at her arm , making choking noises. She jerked him again. "NOW. I WANT IT NOW." 

"D—on't.... ha-have it—here—”

She screamed and pulled the pin away from his throat and brought it back down again on his shoulder, he shuddered in her arms and let out a strangled, dry gasp.   
"I WANT IT NOW—!!!” She was beginning to grow hysteric, she pulled the pin back again and brought it down again, harder this time. He thrashed again and she made to pull it from his arm again and bring it back, but before she could he pressed his hand over hers, struggling to keep her from removing it. 

"Please—!!" he screamed.

She screamed back at him, the adrenaline coursing through her body filling her with power, she fought with him, pulling and stirring the pin in his shoulder. He was starting to take shuttering breaths as her focus of strangling him was now fractured on stabbing him, screaming, and overpowering him. 

"PAGAN—you think begging will stop me?! Did you stop when I begged for you to?!" She ripped the pin from his shoulder and would have stabbed him again, but a great clattering caught her attention. Her arm froze as she saw two men appear from the stairwell, confused and their hands at their sides on their swords. Immediately she dropped her arm from around her guard, stumbling to the ground and retreating into the darkness.

He groaned and she heard him slide to the floor, the two other men, still confused, rushed to him. "What happened!?" One asked, bewildered, she could just see his bearded face as she backed away into her room. 

Her guard merely moaned, coughing and gasping for breath, a small puddle of blood forming just under the door, she looked at her pin and realized she’d broken blood, probably broken more than that.   
There was a moment of near silence as the other two men examined her guard, pressing something into the wounds. She could just hear their voices, murmuring urgently to each other.   
Fear swelled inside of her. That door could protect her from one man, but there wasn't just one anymore. 

"Woman!" Came a shout, the other man speaking now, he pounded fiercely on the door, "Do you think this makes you strong and brave?" 

Cecil's heart pounded in her body and she shivered. Her entire body felt like it was burning, it hurt to breath, to stand—she was going to faint—

"What stops us from coming in there and teaching you your place?!" 

No. She wasn't going to be bullied anymore, no more silence, no more fear!   
"Come in here!" She taunted bravely, hiding a shiver in her voice, "Let's see the action behind your words. I know you can open the door, do it! I dare you. Murder my body and leave me for the crows. I think I remember your lord Hiro saying something about this, 'if anyone feels it they simply open the door and enter', isn't that what he said? Didn't he say he wanted my body harmed? Come do it. I'm certain whatever you do to my body would be nothing compared to what Hiro would do to you."   
"Foolish bitch!" He responded, "Help me get the door—"

"Stupid! She's right!" The first man retorted, slapping his companion, "No one is supposed to enter except his highness himself." 

"Who is to know but us?" 

"You should be killed for that, Acestes, I won't open it."

The second man exhaled in frustration before returning his attention back to Cecil, "Wonder how your protector will feel once he knows what you've done." 

"Let him come, tell him I've longed for his company," she meant it as a sneer, but it sounded almost affectionate, needy.

"Acestes, stop making at your beau and help me," the first man snapped. 

There was a pound at the door and then the two men got around to tending to her guard.

Acestes was the one to lead him away to be dressed by someone who knew how, the first man was left to attend to her door. 

"You know he'll come," was the only thing he said the entire evening. 

"I count the moments until he does," she replied softly, she didn't even know if he could hear her.


	6. Chapter 6

He didn't remember being taken out of the tower, he apparently had walked all on his own, but the memory was not in his recollection. To be frank, the entire ordeal was a bit hazy to him, it was hard to recall specifics from the moment due to his severe and sudden lack of air due to her arm latching around his neck; needless to say he was glad the memory was fragmented and broken. The shame from just the fragments was enough to make him never want to ever be seen again.

Unfortunately for him, the entire castle knew of the stabbing before his shoulder was done being dressed.

It was later in the day, but there was just enough time between the evening meal and the midday meal that there was nothing to be done in the castle and while he was without his tunic.  
Ze had never been so popular, ever, in his entire life, and now that he was surrounded with kitchen girls and chamber maids alike he wasn't sure he really wanted to be popular ever again.  
"I heard the woman in the tower is possessed."

"Well I heard she came at you with a ten inch knife!"

"Marlin said that she was only five feet tall."

It was impossible to sit quiet and ignore the growing crowd of people, holding his arm out, despite the searing pain, while the nurse tending to him flittered back and forth. The nurse cursed and swatted people out of her way, but they always surged back.

"How many times did she stab you?"

There was nothing he desired to do less than answer any of their questions, but the questions came again and again, he couldn't decide whether it was more embarrassing to try and pretend it never happened and ignore his growing fanatics or to simply answer them. "Twice," he eventually did comply and it he didn't actually mean to do this, but as all the women around him cooed and awed, saying they couldn't imagine how painful it was. He didn't mean to straighten his back and do his best to look as impressive as he could...but he did.

While the women were there and it was just him in a sea of cooing women who knew nothing of the woman in the tower it all sounded very impressive.

According to one woman's rendition he had been caught from behind and she went for his throat and he had fought her off, taking only the wounds to his shoulder.

He rather liked her version.

He needn't bother that he had come over to her and had been facing her, hoping he could have caught her face to face. It'd been in his mind to kiss her whether the woman desired him to kiss her or not. The thought of another squeeze of her wonderful breast had crossed his mind as well, he had reasoned with himself that catching her face to face would be easier to conduct such fancies.  
There were a lot of things he desired no one to ever know and while the women continued their contradicting tales of what they thought to happen he held them tight to himself. There was absolutely no reason to mention he had stolen, in cheap tactics as well, something of great value from her, and he certainly had no intention of telling how he was going to use that to manipulate the woman into groveling for him—

It'd gone so much smoother in his head! In his head she was going to stay docile and compliant. He'd give her a command and she'd say no, he'd imagined that, but then he would flash her ring and then suddenly she'd make that whimpering noise and she'd break, do whatever he asked.

Not stab him twice and near kill him! She wasn't supposed to do that!

And to further flesh out his seething anger, he realized as he saw the first man come in, smirking at this joke before him, that this was the second time he'd attempted to shame her and she'd retaliated with something more humiliating and public.

As soon as one man entered, they came flocking and then the pecking ladies doting on him and admiring him faded away as they became over crowded with mocking men.  
"Can't even keep a lady in fine tempers separated by a wall, eh, Crowe?"

"Tried flirtin' with her di'n't ya, Crowe?"

"What else would take the docile woman bowin' her head and never speaking and make here snap like that?"

Eventually the women faded as the evening work hours began and more men flocked him, as he was told to stay where he was until the bleeding stopped long enough to change the wraps, leaving him easy prey for the men to devour. Trying to lay still and not bump his shoulder as people gathered around and laughed at him was impossible.

Two thoughts started turn inside of Ze as he lay there with the men and women laughing at him.

"Leave it to him to spoil a lady's temper."

It was considerable that perhaps he had been cruel.

"I heard she caught you from behind and held you in place for her to stab at."

Perhaps a tad too cruel.

"Just laid there and took it, I heard."

There were things that he should have left as was, should have caved to her pleading sobs.

"You're a doily of a man, you are, Crowe."

And though he had thought she deserved every bit of it.

"Let yourself be choked by a woman, what a flower."

He also reasoned that perhaps he'd overreacted...

 

The crowding people died away, but the laughter did not.

Nor did the gossip.

Days later when he would walk about the castle grounds, not asked to return to his post, nor to tend to anything else, he would see the laughing glances and the whispers from just about the corner.  
He did his best to ignore what he could, to think about what happened as little as possible, but every covered smiled turned his way boiled his blood. Keeping his anger to himself proved a chore, but the crowds quickly wore off and he spent much of his time doing nothing with no one around him. Alone with a lot of rage and a significant amount of pain and time, Ze used this time, much to his dismay, to think.

Nothing ever happened at the castle, nothing significant had ever happened in his life, it was hard to come to a pleasant thought about anything except her. She was the most interesting thing to ever happen to him as he could remember and how wrong everything was involving her, how wrong everything felt.

Every time her thought he would get a soft touch with her, thought he'd finally get what he wanted he got something worse. The only time everything went right and better was when he'd stolen her ring, and despite how much he wanted to keep holding her hand and feel her grope at his body that memory had been tainted with how it'd paid off for him.

It was hard for him not to wish about that moment before she'd grabbed him, how it could have gone, oh, he could have kissed her, or caught her breast, or anything other than what he had received. He couldn't lay there and think about how wrong everything was, there had to be other things to do.

He begged his mom in the castle to let him help cook, only for her to say no. He tried helping his father in the apothecary, but couldn’t hold anything with his arm like so. In the end all he could do was walk about the castle. As soon as he could, he made a silent trip to his bunk in the barracks to retrieve her ring from under his bedroll where here had hidden it. He'd cut a strip of his blanket off for a make-shift necklace and from then on he planned to always have it with him. Not just so in case she were to attack him again, but to make certain that it was never stolen from and that no one ever returned it to her.

It was his, even if she were to never be his, he would always have her ring, hold a power over her. Even if the rumors were true and his Highness had put her there because he desired to force her hand to return his love; even if she were to one day return it...this ring would forevermore belong to him.

Personally the week that had passed of him doing nothing hadn't been long enough and when the head guard finally came to talk to him, Ze was less than ecstatic. Talking again of the great honor, completely forgetting that he'd been stabbed twice from the last great honor he'd received.

This time it was slightly different, slightly.

His highness himself came to see Ze, making the nurse undo the wrap on his shoulder, looking at his the two wounds, show his neck, looked at the yellowing bruises.

"She did this to you?"

"Yes," Ze had no idea how to talk to his highness, he'd never been anywhere in the vicinity of him before, and although he'd been taught since the moment he'd washed ashore this castle how to act around those of the court, he didn't feel like it was appropriate to avert his eyes and talk to the ground. All in all it was a confusing situation and he didn't like it.

"How?" His highness's eyes narrowed, questioning, rightfully, had this numb skulled guard attempted to attack his precious store?

"I was stood before the door," Ze started slowly, terrified that all the things the woman had spewed might actually be true, "When all the sudden she came behind me screaming and threatening with a needle to my neck."

"But she stabbed your shoulder instead."

"Y-yes," Ze drew a shaky breath, "She...wanted something and I couldn't speak," his hand went to his throat, "her arm still around my neck--I was having a hard time comprehending what she screamed about, the only thing I could manage to say was that I didn't know what she wanted, she went more berserk and began demanding something from me."

"And then stabbed you twice."

Ze nodded his head, flicking his eyes to Hiro's gray eyes and away.

"This being the first of her bearing her head to you?"

"N-no."

"No."

"She talks."

"Oh?" His highness looked intrigued, no longer biding on a hinge of anger, "She speaks?"

"Yes, almost constantly."

"Do you respond?"

Ze looked away, "Not usually, if yet."

He raised his brows to Ze, "Is that so?"

Ze was uncertain as how to respond to him, if he wanted a reason or if he wanted to know what the woman spoke about or what. After a quiet moment his highness piqued his eyebrows once more, signifying that Ze should speak up and answer him, "Yes, she just talks gibberish, I spoke to another guard about her blathering and he said it was out of loneliness--"

"Loneliness? Does she seem lonely to you?" A devious smile formed across his lips and he leaned away.

"She-" Ze paused, his highness was drinking in every word, waiting for him to answer just the way his highness wanted. Waiting for Ze to tell him his plan had worked, she was desperate for his attention. Ze had his answer half formed on his lips when he realized that his highness desires the same Ze desires, if his answer were yes then Ze had lost. He pulled his answer away, if he could hold to his prey in his near grasp for even a moment longer, he would, "She does not," he finally answered, "She only seems enraged."

The smile faded and a thoughtful one replaced it.

Ze waited uncomfortably, shifting as he sat, wishing his arm would be re-wrapped sooner rather than later, but his arm was still exposed as his highness continued to think quietly to himself.  
"Why don't I indulge her whims, then?" He finally stated, a coy smile returning to his face.

Ze had no clear indication of what his highness meant exactly, but after that the nurse was called back to Ze and allowed to wrap and tend to the wound, his highness loitering still, returning when the nurse had finished her work sitting down once more before Ze and this time he asked him of all the things she had spoke about. Ze told him all he could remember.

When his Highness finally left he told him to be at the tower as he had done every day before, be there early.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DUBIOUS CONSENT, slightly possibly triggering content in this chapter read with care.

Sleep was the only time she was free from her excessive crying and fears and in turn she spent much of her time in bed trying to sleep. The weather had also taken a sharp turn to cold in the past days and her window opened to the western winds, she'd been forced to hang her quilt from her bed above the window otherwise she'd freeze to death.

The room held no fireplace, she had searched, moved every box and piece of worn old furniture from around the walls, but to her dismay there was nothing, not that if she’d found one would she have had matches or kindle. Although to her joy as she searched the room up and down in the pitch dark she had found a store of more blankets, old and moth eaten, but blankets, she shook them out and there she lay wrapped in as many blankets as she could.

Since the day she had stabbed the guard, however long it had been since with the one window covered it was hard to know when it was day and when it was night, she had been spending the majority of her time tucked into bed, too cold to walk about the room. In turn she’d decided to start sleeping as naked as she could get, which, to be frank, was completely naked. She’d found it warmer that way overall and it was more comfortable. She didn’t have any fear of being seen anyways.

She almost never got up “early” whatever early was anymore, but a loud beating behind the door brought her to anyways one morning days and days, years! for all Cecil knew since her guard had left.

"Open it."

Cecil couldn't be certain, having just been jarred from deep slumber, but she was near positive that the voice had been Hiro's. She was dreadfully weary still, disoriented, the horror of what might be happening hadn't quite settled inside of her, it wasn't until the door exploded with a bombardment of light, near blinding her.

Cecil pulled the blankets to her chest and slowly propped herself on one arm while she held a hand before her eyes, shielding just enough so she could make out the figure as it stepped into the room with her.

"Did I wake you?" Hiro's voice met her and she returned it with a fear laced, confused expression.

Her mouth agape as she tried to make sense of what was happening, the door was open, early morning light, three men, oh god, oh gods, oh god, one of them was her guard, he was standing there, she'd stabbed him and there he stood, eyes drinking in her fear, yet there he simply stood, he didn't venture in with Hiro.

Her eyes returned to him for he had passed the table and chairs that blocked them and was now near before her, blocking her view and catching her eyes. When he was beside her he grabbed her face as he had done when he'd made to kill her, he didn't say anything for a moment, pulled her face one way, then the other, examining her, "I didn't believe you to be capable of stabbing a man," he raised a single eyebrow and released her face from his hand sliding it down over her bare shoulders, she shied away from his touch, pulling the blankets tighter around her body.

She glared away from him and he let go of her, looking around. She knew the hairpin was very obviously stabbed into the bed post just above her head and heard the soft thup as Hiro drew it from the wood, "Hm, but you do have a credible amount of strength for a woman--is this what you used?" He scoffed, her eyes followed to the hairpin as he twirled it in his fingers, "A hairpin."

She remained quiet, not wanting to gift him with her quivering voice.

"I didn't quite believe it myself," he scoffed, tucking the hairpin to his side, a hand snaked back to her face, pulling it down and into the light, "What happened?" He demanded having suddenly noticed the slowly healing cuts and bruises on the edge of her face. She knew he spoke of the beating she had received, he didn't look down at her, but he turned his head to look at the guards behind him, to accuse her guard, rightfully, of doing it, the one she had stabbed twice, he said nothing, though and returned his eyes to her, "What happened."

Still she held her tongue still.

Her arm which she used to hold the blanket to her body was ripped from her and used to shake her violently, Hiro's face contorted and enraged, "Tell me or I'll reveal your naked body for all to see. Now tell me what happened?!"

She wanted to cry, her face clenching and threatening to do it anyways, her mouth opened, but she didn't want to say, "I did it to myself—"

"Yourself?!" His eyes searched her up and down, a fierce look of disbelief clouding his face.

Her lips quivered, had she deteriorated this much? To be terrified and brought to near tears in the face of a man never before had the idea crossed her mind to fear? She wanted to hold her tongue once more, her last ability to keep from crying, but he needed an answer, "I cannot be here anymore, I thought to catch your attention, but to none—that—that is why I attacked the guard..."

His face softened, his other hand softly raising to brush her cheek, he hummed in thought, "You have been alone for some time..."

Her long depravity from touch made her lift her hand and press it over his, holding his hand to her face, her fingers holding to his large hand gently. He continued his soft brushing and she closed her eyes, clinging to the feeling of being touched.

"I have rotted, I have broken, take me from this tower," was the voice that spoke her own? Was the pleading near crying voice something she'd ever someone as strong as herself to expel from her mouth? It was, it was her holding his hand to her face and begging for his forgiveness. She wasn’t sure she even believed herself.

"You will stay here until I say otherwise."

Her heart faltered, eyes fluttering open, wide and begging into Hiro's, she let the words go before she could stop herself, "No, no, please, I can't."

He showed no sympathy, watched her with uncaring eyes.

"Please," she heard the word come from her mouth again, but it wasn't Cecil in control of what was said now, someone else had resorted her tongue to begging, her body for pleading, "Please don't leave me to die here in the dark," her hands clung to his shirtwaist, her eyes pleading with him, the blankets threatening to fall and reveal her naked chest.

There was nothing to hide anymore, she was genuinely scared the door would shut again and she would still be here. It'd been so easy to think she would fake love for Hiro to be free when she hadn't yet endured a faceless time in the cold, dirty, lonely dark. Not that she loved him now.

He mocked her pleading with a face, taking her hand and brushing her hair from her face, "If you tell me where it is I'll let you be with me."

Momentarily blindsided, her face fell and she shook her head just so, "Where what is?"

"You know what," he repeated, just as soft, "Where is the lost kingdom?"

"L-lost kingdom? That is just a story—"

"It is not!" He snapped, "Tell me."

"I don't...know, I don't—"

His face contorted into fury, grabbing her sharply from about the neck, squeezing just long enough to pull her upwards and then thrown sharply to the ground. Cecil's near naked body splayed across the ground as Hiro kneeled next to her, pulling her face from the floor and turning her body to him, his eyes were near diligent to stay only to her eyes, but they trailed, looking at her body, his hand ran over her skin, then retracted to rest on one of his knees.

He leaned forward until his lips were pressed to her ear, his hand moved to hold her in place.

"The ambush was part of a careful plan," he started, whispering into her ear, "I had intended to capture and kill your brother, fight through your remaining troops, and take your castle with you in it."  
His breath against her ear made her stomach twist and he pulled her closer still.

"Imagine my joy when I capture, not your bullheaded brother, but you! The queen! The one with everything I want," he drew a soft breath, his hand groping at her waist, other hand returning to cradle her face for him to continue whispering in her ear, "I wanted to take you right then and there, you were so stunning, so beautiful, even in your brother's armor, even under my sword."

"But you see... I prepared to do my time waiting, I had prepared for months until I could have you and all your knowledge, if I free you now you won't understand how long I planned for, how much I was willing to wait for you, considering how precious it is to you to both beg for my forgiveness and hold back what you know, I feel this to be fair," she felt his lips brush her skin, "Don't worry," he breathed between his kissing of her skin, "I forgot how beautiful you were, forgot how much I coveted your body, I won't leave you alone for long, I'd miss this too much," his kissing followed along her jaw, she knew he wanted her lips but she did all she could to slow him, not wanting to feel his lips kiss her, feel him take from her everything she had to give.

"If you put me somewhere else I would be...ready for you...whenever...you...desired..." she spoke slowly, concentrating on moving her face from his approaching kisses. She could do little to stop the inevitable contact, him pressing her closer to his body, his mouth encompassing hers as she was held in place for him to control.

She knew if she kissed him back he would be less convinced to leave, but she couldn't bring herself to return his kissing and her arms didn't stray to hold his body, she just fell flat and she wished for him to quickly bore of one sided kissing, yet he persisted.

Hand trailing to her breast, painfully squeezing, holding her tight enough to keep her from breathing, she used her arms to hold herself up, her legs trying to push herself away, but he continued, kisses trailing from her mouth and down her neck.

She believed he would keep going, take her right there on the floor leave her for dead, but he stopped.

He let go from around her waist, nearly dropping her to the ground, as he stood he drew a blanket that had fallen from the bed with her and covered her body. She held it tightly around her, not certain whether to stand with him or stay on the cold stone.

As she watched him, his eyes averted from hers and it was painfully obvious he was embarrassed he had let himself go so far and get so excited, he turned and quickly left, Cecil struggling to her feet behind him, holding the blanket to her chest.

When he got to the door, where the three guards continued to gawk, he threw his arms in the air.

"What are you three idiots staring at? I could have all three of you murdered for your bastard eyes reaping her body, shut the fucking doors, stop staring!"

The guards were slow to action, slow to stop looking at her poorly hidden figure behind the blanket, when her guard stepped from the door to let the two other men shoulder it shut, he still hadn't stopped staring, a barely hidden grin of satisfaction and wonder plastered to his face. She didn't stay to watch the door shut, the light to disappear, she held the blanket behind her, covering what she could of her body, and returned to bed.

When the door was shut, the dead bolt once again holding her in, Hiro's voice came from the distance.

"Foul bastards, never seen a woman naked before?! You be certain to keep your eyes closed when you are around me for the rest of your pathetic lives lest I personally gouge them from your head—you—you stay."

Footsteps leading away, but Hiro's voice persisted, "You are still her guard."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ze has a change of heart.

The day his highness went into the room the castle exploded, Ze, of course, didn't know about any of this until late at night, but when he sat down for his dinner all the guards were talking about her.  
For one, Ze considered quietly, not wanting to get in on the conversation having thoughts on the matter itself he didn't want to accidentally spill, the nature of her beauty was exaggerated to the ends of mental conception.

There were words like 'exotic' and 'breathtaking' thrown around. Her body was described repeatedly in atrociously fake detail, it was a color of white never before seen before, her eyes were rimmed with black and blue as icy and sharp as a sword. Even though none but his highness had been close enough to touch her, apparently her hair and skin was smooth and blemish free, smelling of roses, or lilies, or any other fragrant flower one could dream of. She was all of their daydreams come true, even conflicting attributes were given to her, were here breasts small and firm? Yes. Were her breasts also large and soft? Yes.

They had all forgotten or casually forgotten about her talking problem because to them she was perfect in every way.

Even though the nature of her imprisonment had become obviously romantic and possessive, every guard explained in gritty detail how they would personally love to violate her. Ze had to listen over and over again about graphic positions they’d utilize to put their limp swords in her every orifice. Even men who’d never been anywhere near the tower, let alone seen her, were bragging about how this or that she was. The look she’d chanced on Ze was described to be a look for anyone but him.

It frankly disgusted Ze, making him realize how incredibly annoying he would have been if he’d voiced his desires out loud to anyone. It made him rethink being so desperate and rough about it, as well.  
Her beauty had overshadowed, but only for an astoundingly long day, the other reason his highness had trapped her. Eventually this piqued the attention of everyone in the castle, and soon the entire countryside, knowledge she had kept to herself: that woman was of the mythical lost kingdom.

This explained a lot about what she talked about, all those things he didn't understand, all the things she babbled about, it was the magic and mysteries of the kingdom that had fallen near twenty years ago. Where the castle floated upon a spring filled island in the sky, the people there knew the secrets to flight—that woman was from there.

Had she been trying to tell him this entire time? All the talk of things he didn't know about, all the talk of mountains and maps, surely she had been trying to tell him the entire time? Where it was, where she was from, who she was. He felt a little foolish for not catching on. But really, all it did was hurt his head. He didn't want to even think about it, just the thought alone of the kingdom made him double over with head splitting pain, unpleasant enough that he avoided all talk of it. Leaving dinner and his own bedroll if he heard talk of it.

Thankfully it was very easy for him to avoid both the talk of violating her and the talk of the kingdom: his days were returned to the solitude of the tower.

Yet…all of his thoughts were, once again, on her.

He spent little time with other guards, much less than before, he couldn't stand their loose tongues going on and on about her, with everything they were saying being like excerpts from his own thoughts and he didn't want that. His thoughts were different, they stemmed from something more noble, deeper.

Even more so than his highness, he reasoned.

His emotions of killing her body slowly had turned full circle when he stood there and watched his highness do it. It'd been frustrating just standing there and watching as his highness acted everything that had plagued Ze's mind. It could have been him kissing her skin, it could have been him pressing over her. It should have been him. He understood the disparity between himself and his highness, but he deserved it. And, unlike his highness, Ze wouldn’t have hurt her. Given the chance to be that close to her he would be much nicer.

She would have enjoyed it, if it had been Ze. She wouldn’t have cried like that…those horrible big tears and short cries, Ze never wanted to see her cry like that ever again. He never thought he’d say that, after how angry he’d been with her after she’d punched him and he’d crushed her skull, but he didn’t want to see or hear her cry. Too painful.

Anyway, Ze deserved to be with her more than his highness and any of the other men. They talked of putting her in her place and cutting out her tongue, but who had really endured her sassy mouth and body? Who? Ze.

Ze had managed all this with naught but a great honor of being accused of agitating her, which before the day his highness had opened the door, he would have held to be true, but he decided with her lying for him that there could be something deeper he could groom.

Although he’d seen fear in her eyes when she’d alighted on him, but he knew wanted there to be something else there too. Perhaps she had wanted to see him, not his highness, not that he needed to speculate that. He knew she didn’t want his highness, but perhaps he could get her to want him. Her eyes kept glancing over at him and every time she did he felt a trill of joy.

As the castle changed and stirred and stayed stirred, Ze continued to wait.

A week passed and nothing changed in the tower.

Silence and cold.

Cold and silence.

That woman had to know that Ze was out here, why hadn't she even let out puffs of air in the direction of the door? Why was she so quiet?

When the second week was on its dying breath, he decided to finally take the step for her, to let her know that he was there and that he forgave her for stabbing him and he was sorry for hurting her.  
"Woman," he began, loud enough to feel certain she could hear him, "You know it is just us, you can speak."

His carefully selected and politely delivered words were received with a long, suffocating silence. He waited impatiently, stamping from frozen foot to frozen foot waiting for her to answer. He attempted to quell the anger which was swelling inside of him as time wore on and still there was only silence. He was near about to pound and the door to catch her attention, demand she speak to him when the soft sound of cloth being dragged along the ground caught his ears.

The soft movement came closer and closer until it stopped.

He could hear her breathing just beyond the door, he stepped closer just to be nearer to that which he wanted right then and there, show her how much more worthy he was than all those other men, gods, she was just right there. If she stood on the step he could kiss her like his highness had, but this wouldn't be like the stiff, unwanted kisses, she'd adore it, beg him for more.

He moved closer to the door, not quite in the view of the window, but closer, let her know he was here, ready for her to apologize to, ready to apologize back. Patting his chest softly to feel her ring just beneath his tunics, he smiled to himself. He couldn't wait to pull it out let her see it, let her remember who she really submits to, not his highness, not any other guard, no one.

The air between them seemed to grow thicker and heavier as the silence wore on and on, just her damn weighted breath as though she'd been sobbing or her nose was clouded. Crying again…

Before the quiet could be ended by either Ze or the woman, a sound of footsteps in the stairwell brought Ze to attention, who would be in the stairs at this time? Too early for both food or for a guard? His highness had said nothing of coming up today, nor had any other men, who then?

He quickly came to attention and waited, watching the stairs with an anxious patter in his chest. On the footsteps came, on they came...

After a moment a young maiden with a flushed face and precariously holding the tray of food and water for him. He frowned and glared at her.

"Who are you? You are not supposed to be up here," Ze walked towards her, his shoulders squared to make himself appear intimidating, but being a near foot taller than her, he didn’t need to.

"Ah, a moment," she breathed, "it's so much higher than she said it would be," the young woman was clearly winded, he let out a puff of air as he realized what was happening.

At that very moment he would have sent her away, but he wasn't sure exactly what power he had in this particular moment. It'd been well over 3 months since he'd been told the rules for who and what was allowed near the door. It was near impossible recalling the specifics, but he was certain that a friend couldn't just switch out with the runner, the runner was the runner no matter what, he drew another big breath, "You can't just take the place of the other girl," he growled, "No one but specific people are allowed up the stairs--"

"I think we can just keep this between you are me," she breathed, looking up at him, "Would you like some wine?"

He was about to take the tray of food from her roughly and send her away, but the prospect of being offered wine caught his attention. He observed the plate suspiciously, he noticed now that there was no water in the cup meant for the woman, his eyes regarded the girl suspiciously.

The girl averted her eyes to around the room, she appeared to be trying to remember what to do with the tray, her eyes went to the door and the wide space between it and the floor. Slowly and carefully she made to move around him and set the tray down, removing the cup as she did. When she turned back to face Ze, she had a sly smile, offering him the cup, which he accepted warily.

From her tunic she revealed a small bottle, from which she poured the dark purple wine into his glass.

It near did surprise him, he had not been expecting actual wine, he was only convinced when the thick scent was caught in his lungs and he tasted the sweet liquid. After taking a sip he looked at her suspiciously again, "What do you want?"

"Me? Want something?" She smiled sweetly, leaning towards him, "I-I just wanted an excuse to come see you..."

Her voice trailed off and he stared at her dumbly, not certain if she was duping him or if this was certainly happening. His mouth hung agape for a moment, and he would have replied had there not been a soft scoffing noise from behind the door.

The two of them turned towards the door just to see the woman's hands disappearing with the tray.

"Maybe I'll be able to slip up here more often," the girl started again slowly, returning her gaze to his as he greedily downed the rest of wine, "We'll be able to spend more time together..."

He near chocked on the drink, regaining his composure, he tried not to look terrified, but he looked terrified, "Togeth—"

"There's word his royal highness is going to be visiting more often and you'll always be here..." she began to babble on, leaning ever closer, offering him a little more wine, just enough to make him calmer. Her arms casually found his chest, touching him gently, her fingers dancing over his own.

She may have thought she had found the dullest guard and she may have believed she was deceiving him with her flirting eyes and soft words, but he had caught on immediately, he just didn't care. If he could press her to the wall and kiss her like this more often, he didn't mind if it was simply her dicing for information on the woman who had loudly returned her tray, only temporarily pausing his exploration of this girl.

And she was only the beginning.

His highness returned a week later with her noon meal, Ze, along with two other men. They opened the door and, despite their warning from the time before, their eyes drank in her every movement.  
She was fully clothed this time, but looked no less beautiful and pathetic.

This time, though being later in the day, she was still in her bed, wrapped in blankets, upon leaving the bed, it was obvious to all why she had chose to stay in the bed.

Her skin was tinged blue, her fingers swollen from the cold, near black in places. Her feet, clearly visible in the dress not made for a woman of her height and stature, were also swollen and blue. From the frigid air, one or two degrees colder than the scaldingly cold temperatures outside, that had surged from the room as the door had opened, it was clear that if she were to remain in this room as she was now, she would die. Probably pretty soon.

His highness didn't comment on her swollen fingers or blue lips, he talked, she was quiet, she willfully came to him, willfully let him wrap her arms around him. He talked more, let go of her, made her sit, watched her, told her to eat, she couldn't, she wouldn't. Her teeth visibly clattered against one another, even from where Ze stood he could hear her.

She was pathetic, worthless, broken, yet his highness said nothing of it, didn't offer her any comfort, didn't even touch her again.

Before Ze's eyes drank in her every move, followed her with reckless abandon, yet now that she was near a specter of a woman he couldn't look at her. It reminded him of something terrible and sad and buried. Her black, stiff fingers…it didn’t quit look like gangrene, he couldn’t place what exactly it was, but her fingers still moved, albeit stiffly. Overall it scared him, making his body was tense, telling him to run and run until the resurgent memory, she, and everything else was gone forever.

His highness left without a word goodbye, no touch of her icy skin, no mention of her sullen face, nothing.

The door shut and she was once again alone in the frozen darkness.

It had become easy to forget her, every day the door was opened a different maid came to him wanting to know of what she was like, what the mythic lost kingdom was like, and he always asked for something in return. He adored the things they gave to him, the quick pleasure filled moments in an empty hall.

If that weren’t enough, his reputation with women changed after the first girl ran and told all her friends about how passionate Ze could be. It appeared that Ze was much more pleasurable company when he wasn't talking, but when he was dominating their bodies. His involvement with the woman in the tower became only icing on the cake, women were tripping over themselves for a little taste of what he could offer.

But he had to stand by that cursed door for twelve hours, which was less boring now that it'd been discovered that she was both beautiful and a living myth, whereas before only the runner ever found their way to up the stairs, suddenly there were those slipping up the stairs to try their hand at the door, to try and talk to her. He sent away person after person, the guards at the bottom of the stairs were clearly doing a piss poor job.

Yet...between the stolen souls that dared try to get at her he stood there and listened.

It had bothered him before that she didn't speak to him, especially after what she had done to him, stabbed him! Waiting to talk about what they’d done to each other and she seemed to have lost her voice. However, now it was clear as to why she never spoke, she was dying.

And, as he stood warm, wrapped in a cloak with fur lined gloves and three layers of hose, he could hear her distant, muffled sobs. He could feel the air from beneath the door, the dark, cursed air that she was wallowing in. He didn’t like hearing her cry, even if only distantly when all was quiet.

His arm twinged as he shuffled his feet.

She was dying.

Slowly she was going to freeze to death.

That woman had stabbed him! She did not deserve his sympathy, she had no right to make him hurt, not in his arm, but especially not in his goddamn heart…

Blue skin, blue lips, black fingers, bare feet.

A fist curled and uncurled itself.

Her food came and went, he watched carefully, the tray had been placed outside the door, too cold to set inside the room. He heard her come shuffling forward— he heard her wince audibly as she walked. She was in physical pain just walking, as she neared he could hear her breathing sharply as she moved.

She—she needed him.

When her hands appeared to grab her food, he was there, he was ready, before even her hand, sheet white, could grab the tray he snapped his hand to hers.

She was about to struggle as he gripped her hand tighter, he could hear her panic and her earnest breathing, he spoke to her softly, "Stop, stop, don't struggle,” he mumbled, holding onto her firmly. Not like she had the strength to tear away from her.

"Le-le-let go—" she pulled weakly, hardly able to talk through her shivering.

"Stop—!" he said more forcefully, pulling her hand further out of the door, she stopped struggling, probably due to the fear that he would hurt her again, "I won't hurt you," Ze whispered pressing her hand between his own much larger hands. He could feel her icy skin even through his gloves.

He hated to admit it to himself, near couldn't admit it to himself, yet the action alone with its tender affection, it wasn't bad holding her hand like this, despite her snivel in wake of the door.  
"Pl-ple-please d-d-don't-t hur-t-t me," she whimpered.

What had he just told her? Sighing crossly, he regarded her fears and his own little desire to cut and cull her, he didn't have to, though, he considered. If he wanted her as bad as his body told him he wanted her, which he did, he couldn't have her if she was dead. He hadn't had to do a thing and she had broken, he didn’t need to punish her more, she would do whatever he wanted her to do, perhaps all that required to lure her into his arms now was thin compassion, "I said I wasn't going to hurt you," he muttered, "Don't move—"

Still holding her hand, he rearranged himself, pulling at the cord which kept the cloak around his shoulders . It feel with a loud thwump. With the same hand he nudged it past her food and towards the door.

"Put that on," he commanded, although he really had no need to command her, before he had finished the cloak was being dragged into the room with her. He heard her shuffle about as the cloak disappeared, she didn't thank him, but that was far from his mind, other thoughts were rolling about in his mind, "Give me your other hand," he demanded firmly.

Within a moment her other arm appeared and draped across his lap as he settled to sit down before the door.

Ze was giddy, she was eating out of his hand no questions asked.

The temptation to speak softly and about that which would paint him in an equal light to her was tempting, but he wanted to be in command, wanted her to know that even though she was his, he wasn't hers.

Instead of saying anything at all he let go of her hands one at a time and pulled off his gloves and laid them aside from her, worried she’d steal them. He held her hands, cold as ice and, less blackened than before? Between his own and leaned against the doorframe.

After some time of silence, her soft, no longer stuttered, voice peeped, "Would you insist I return the cloak..?"

"Keep it. Remind yourself it is I keeping you warm, it is I you owe."

Her fingers curled beneath his, she didn't want to be reminded, he smiled to himself, she was finally his, all his, his, his, his.

"Hiro is in love with me," she whispered.

"I don't care," Ze spat sharply, "He'd let you die, remind yourself of that."

She remained quiet for a moment, her fingers still curled, yet she had made no move to remove herself, not that Ze would let her if she tried, not quite ready himself to let her go, “I don’t love him back…” She finally answered,

He brushed her fingers between his, rubbing life into them, “I know that.”

“You don’t need to remind me he’s not caring for me.”

“I think I do,” Ze said, flattening her fingers, “I think I need to remind you that it’s me, not him.”

She would have answered, had not a clattering in the stairwell jarred both of them. Ze, abandoning her hands in fear of his life and job, quickly scrambled to his feet, near knocking her food and her arms as he did. Her arms retracted from the door with heed, neglecting the food all together.

The clattering turned into shouting, and the shouting turned into a crazed man dashing around the stairs at the top of the stairs, a man of whom Ze had never before seen. He was followed in hot, tackling pursuit by Edward and while Ze was getting his bearings at what the hell was going on, Edward finally caught him gruffly about the collar and jerked him backwards in his trunk body. He caught Ze's eye and motioned wildly to the crazed man, "Help me, yeah? Or just stand with your thumb up your ass!"

The man struggled and elbowed at Edward, swinging a dagger ripe with blood. Ze pulled his own dagger and rushed the man, stabbing his hand, sending the dagger clattering across the floor. He lurched into the man and with Edward's help, pinned the man to the ground, tying his wrists.

"What the hell happened?" Ze asked, leaning his knee into the man’s back while Edward stood up and finally caught his breath, he was covered in sweat, gasping for air.

"This fuckin',” he started between massive breaths, “Man…stabbed Midas 'n tried to go at me, one of the men sent from a lord somewhere or whatever," Edward spoke roughly, "Don’t know what he expected to do when he got up here, you're lucky I wasn't stabbed with Midas, lest we all be dead now."

"Are there messengers here, now?" Ze asked incredulously, he was exiled from the grapevine here in this tower, even the gossip with the ladies he seduced still kept him low in matters of the day, "How many?"

"Castle's crawling with 'em, " Edward spat, kicking the man sharply on the shoulder, "We stop to question one shit coming up the stairs and three slip past us, this one just happened to have a knife. Men coming from all over seeking shelter and then they just spend their time draped around the base of the tower, looking at it from the outside."

"Why do they even care?"

Edward shooed Ze aside and pulled the man roughly to his feet, "I don't know, let's ask this bastard," Edward pulled sharply on the man's long hair, "Why'd'ya care 'bout this tower?"

The man shook and struggled but didn't say anything, Edward, shook him and questioned him and shook him again, but the man refused to speak. Edward grunted and handed Ze his sword, said more might try to sneak up, even with Midas bleeding out at the bottom of the stairs.

Edward made his way back down the stairs with the man leaving Ze alone.


	9. Chapter 9

The days couldn’t let her have one thing could they? Everything had to take a sudden and terrifying turn to paranoia and sleepless nights, but…at least she was warm…

It didn’t matter how tightly she wrapped herself in blankets and the cloak, she couldn’t stop shivering in fear at the two men standing outside her door.

It was obvious, since the very beginning, that one man was not enough to open and close the door, although she didn't quite know how many was exactly enough. When she'd been thrown into this cell the door had been previously open before shutting behind her. It hadn't been in her mind to look for a deadbolt or a lock, or whatever kept the door shut, she could only assume it took the two men who had escorted her here to shut the door.

Hiro's visits, now on his fourth, always came with a varying number of men.

Hiro would never help open the door on his own, but did the three men he brought open it? Or the five? How many of those men need be there for the door? How many were there just to watch? Would he willingly place two guards at the door knowing full well that if they so desired they could open the door and be away with her without any the wiser?

Although...she wouldn't peg him any different knowingly playing with her on the hinge of life and death. He didn't seem to care about her shame or her health as he left her to die in the cold (though she hadn’t yet died, and that scared her as well), as well as his visits growing increasingly more and more violent.

He'd come immediately to her after the guard scuffle questioning her for spies. He asked if she had talked to anyone, as though she had friends on the inside and outside, as though she could whisper out her window to the ground eons away about her plight to her supposed rescuers. As if she wanted to be rescued in the broad daylight by a crazy man with a knife.

When she shook her head at him, unbelieving, she could hardly speak, she tried to start, softly—cut off with a curt slap across her face.

Even though he left immediately after that, no further inquiry, he clearly wasn't done.

His next visit, the fifth now, not much later, more guards outside the door, he was much less kind. Hiro let out rage and frustration of his own failing plan, his own stabbing with his own dagger, twisting the knife in his own wound.

Hair was pulled, words were thrown, slaps, threats.

His claim of patience, the claim that he wanted her more than he wanted the information he thought she had was all a well thought out lie to whisper, make her trust him. The claim of his cup of patience would continue to hold water was only true long enough for his own tipping and rocking hand to splash water all about his feet. She didn’t think she really believed it when he was sitting on her chest, her neck under his hands and his grip growing ever more deadly.

He never choked her to nothing, never made her bleed, her dress was never pulled off completely, everything was made to seem as though Hiro had snapped, as though he had lost control of the situation. Perhaps he had, but Cecil knew better. When he left her to freeze or when he held a hand to help her to her feet after her chair had been pulled, it was all to show her she was the one with no control. She was at his whim and his mercy, he had the liberty to act as he wanted, he had freedom and she was bound to his whims and wants.

She knew this was a wet dream for him, take all this power from her, this woman who had laughed at him his entire life. The woman who had reserved power anywhere but his lordship, danced with any man but him, and wed her kid brother before she’d wed him, a man just a few years older than her. It was like he’d only just realized he could play with her like she’d done him, but his message was lost in the end.

Although she had lost her will to fight, it was not exclusive to, or even in wake of, Hiro. Despite how he certainly leads himself and the world to believe, it had little to nothing to do with him.  
Her act of vengeance, driven with black hatred and mindless rage, had been her swan song of rebellion, the cloak about her shoulders smelling of hay and heavy musk was proof enough. Had the other man and his clamber for the assassin not intervened she would have never pulled her hands from the guard's lap. Her forehead had rested against the door, wishing to fade through its thick wooden frame and into his arms. To melt in his warmth and never leave.

When Hiro kissed her and touched her it hurt, rough, like his hands had worked his entire life when she knew he didn’t fight in his own war, but her guard…his hands, rough and calloused…felt soft when he held her hands. She hated him touching her after what he did, her face still healing from him pounding her, but she wouldn’t have pulled her hands from him if he begged her to. She'd confessed with that small action of actively holding his hands, to both him and herself, that she was not her own anymore, her dismal shield had been broken, she hadn't even tried to resist him.

That guard controlled her with unequal competition in regards to Hiro.

Hiro controlled her when the door was open, he controlled her entire existence, in theory, but his reign ended abruptly at the door. It did manage to amuse her that Hiro became a god like he’d always wanted to, but a god had never really affected her life except when nature came, and Hiro, too, never affected her until nature came.

But the guard, oh the guard, he regulated everything. He decided whether she was allowed food, warmth, water, attention…His decisions and his generosity was all that kept her alive now, his cloak and his hands, and the prospect that he’d do it again were all that were keeping her moving now.

He had no power over her, which she ever so wanted to believe, yet it was not the fear of Hiro which kept her tongue held in restraint day in and day out, in presence of Hiro or in the presence of nothing.

Hiro held no fear when he left the room, held no awe.

The guard...he spoke of nothing, could not kill her, could not touch her, could not decide whether or not she belonged in the tower, yet he instilled in her fear and admiration which Hiro only dreamed he could.

And Hiro, unwittingly, gave the guard the ultimate power: he had promoted the guard from his position of a mere looming threat to a promise.

Now there was another guard.

Cecil was adequately nervous about it all, she’d made no plans to apologize to her guard, but she had planned to ask him eventually how he was. She felt internal guilt, not that she had hurt him and not that she’d played this game with him, but that she’d swung off the hinge and taken it out on him. She’d wanted to discuss coming to terms with him, asking him again if they could wipe their battle clear and come to an agreement of mutuality. She wasn’t sure what she could offer him, but she wanted him as an ally more than as a looming threat.

However…with the other guard there she was unwilling to bring anything up. She felt it needed to be private, just between her and her guard. She didn’t think it would be safe with this other man listening in, not that she believed her guard would be particularly treacherous with that other guard there to watch.

Nor did she think they could ever get a word in considering the babble this new guard indulged in. If there was empty space he was filling it, overfilling it. Much of it was annoying nonsense, he wasn’t particularly smart, but he was a gossip. It was nice to hear about what was going on not only around the castle, but around the countryside.

It panged her heart to hear that the people believed the king “was dead, Hiro killed him”. She knew, in her heart, that it was she they were talking about, having the whole world watch her be knocked from her horse and carried away to be killed, but she couldn’t shake the feeling her real brother had actually died without her there. Despite the news of the king, the war was still going, Hiro hadn’t much made a dent in the King’s army.

Occasionally he talked of her (or the Queen), other times he talked of Hiro, but mostly he just talked.

The night guards, she noticed as well, began talking more, before she was near certain that he had slept through the night, although she was normally asleep herself, but now the two guards would, through casual conversation between one another, keep her awake. They were buddies, talking back and forth and laughing.

Compared with her guard, none of them gave the slightest overall interest in her. The new day guard had pestered her guard over and over about her, but gave up eventually out of interest in a new topic. The night guards assumed she slept all night and tried to talk at her once and few times, but got nothing.

She showed no interest in them either.

Weeks and weeks, months, years had surely passed with nothing to show. Hiro had not visited again nor had any attempt to open the door without Hiro been put to action.

So far.

 

"Goddamn, Crowe, you said she never shut up, you're a dirty liar. No one has heard a word out of this bitch except mumbles to his highness," the guard who sported dark brown hair and a huge beard spat, loud and crude, one day out of the blue, "It's been three weeks since his highnesses last visit, and longer more I’ve been goddamn standing here."

"She only talks to me," her guard replied harshly, "Wasn't that obvious before?"

Cecil, who had secretly moved to sit in the light of the window near the door, shifted uncomfortably. She'd never heard her guard, Crowe, mention her endless talking since the bearded guard had been moved from guarding the stairwell, with the late guard Midas, to standing in the tower here with Crowe. The bearded man, she had learned his name was Edward through talking, talked of everything, including everything that had led up to that moment just then, but she hadn't been mentioned personally yet. Did this mean they talked of her when they were not here?

"Well if you're as special as you think you are, why hasn't she ignored me and talked anyways?"

Crowe sighed irritably, "She talked to annoy me, she was aiming to irk me and garner a reaction, his highness broke her."

"Broke her? More like she doesn't need you anymore."

"Be quiet," Crowe hissed, "You took her place annoying me."

The bearded man laughed and she heard him slap his hand against her guard, “That’s rich, Crowe!”

She hung nervously onto their conversation, almost able to feel the coming embarrassment and shame.

"She stopped talking because she's dying."

"She almost killed you, I don't think she's that dead."

Crowe hummed in annoyance, before he could speak, the bearded one began again,

"You managed to seduce one girl, only the gods know how, and you've got the entire castle lasses gossiping about your skill and prowess in bed when before all that was ever talked about was how much of an abominable ass you were whenever you opened that hole in your face. Yet the one woman I wish to hear talk and you've managed to shut her up for good. I should'a figured you'd break her, have a lady tethered to you like this to listen to you dick about with your mouth and she's sure to turn off men for good—"

For the first time since being in this tower Cecil let out a genuine soft laugh. The sound was foreign to her and the feel was remarkably good. She would have thought it was a private thing shared between her and the darkness, but it was not.

Within the instant she had let go the two men had grown silent.

"Well," the astonished and entertained voice of the bearded man came, "Has a sense of humor, she does."

"What are you talking about, that was a sniffle, she 's weeping again," Crowe snapped, “Woman, are y—”

"That funny to you woman?" The bearded man laughed, cutting off Crowe, "Did you hear he was the laughing-stock of the kitchens until this one lady took his bait and thought him not too bad when he's naked."

Cecil smiled, despite herself. So that gross bout of sex outside her cell had been his first time? That alone was enough to bring a new smile to her face, further, she knew he hadn't managed to seduce anyone, it was him that had been seduced with wine and cheap affections. Fake affections.

"Now the only woman he can't get to go on and on about him is you."

She scoffed again and laughed, louder this time, "You say that as though he managed to seduce any girl," she managed amidst her laughter.

"So she does speak! What's that, woman?"

Cecil clambered to her feet and came closer to the door, "It wasn't him who seduced that first girl—"

"Quiet bitch," Crowe exclaimed pounding against the door and causing her to jump back, the sound of the pounding now deeply engrained in her with the door opening.

"Oh, shove it, Crowe, speak up, girl."

"S-she," Cecil was less willing to speak up now, uncertain if it was worth Crowe's wrath and the door, "She proposed a trade between him—"

"Oooooh, a trade, huh?"

"She's a lying whore, Edward—"

"You sure aren't acting like it's a lie, Crowe," Edward mocked, "A trade for what exactly?"

"His information for her company."

The hearty laughter that followed made her smile, reminding her of the part of her personality that had died in this room, the joy of telling jokes and hearing people laugh. It was a dull hollow feeling now.

"Gods, Crowe, that's pathetic," Edward managed through his rancorous laughter, "Now you're the most popular man in this castle, girls throwing themselves at your feet and you still can't manage to get them to do it when you actually have to try. Gods, I can't breathe, that's ridiculous!!"

Crowe cursed and, from what Cecil could hear, began to fight with Edward, shoving him, "Stop, it's not true!"

"Stuff it, Crowe, it's just a joke," Edward finally stopped laughing and the fighting stopped. Cecil could only assume that fighting with a bear like Edward wasn’t easy, even for her guard.

She smiled to herself, planning on removing herself from the conversation now, not that she’d ever really wanted to be a part of it. She began to back away from the door, the smile still gracing her lips and the trill in her body still filling her with bliss. Half to through the room and they began to talk again, "Got the castle lasses eating out of your hand, yet can't tame the one you claimed was already pawing at the door to get at you. "

"I never said that!"

"'She only talks to me!' you sure did say nothing like that."

Cecil paused, interested in what they had to say, although a nervous feeling was growing inside of her.

Crowe only hummed in warning.

"You heard him talking," Edward turned his point of conversation from Crowe, who had stopped talking, to Cecil who was almost to her bed. His voice only carried so clearly because he spoke at such an extreme, obnoixious volume, "Sounds like he thought you were fawning for his attention, that's how he made it sound, don't you think, lass?"

Cecil clambered into bed where she started to wrap herself in the blankets, the uneasy feeling continually and inexplicably growing inside of her, but the smile still on her face. The conflicting emotions intertwining were making her feel physically nauseous. She just wanted to cling to that giddy, selfish smile that was fading on her face, but as she settled into the bed, wrapping the cold blankets about her cold body she heard Edward huff loudly.

"You broke her again," he complained, "She's not talking."

"Hmph," she could just barely hear Crowes huff of a response.

"Lass?" Edward called, his face appearing in the window.

Cecil was confident he couldn't see her, but she still receded more into her blankets, hiding more.

"God damn it, Crowe, you ruin everything," Edward cursed, banging the door gruffly.

"What did I do?" Crowe said indignantly.

"You drive all the ladies away, can't even keep a girl interested in a conversation you're not talking in."

"You can't blame this on me," Crowe huffed, "You are the one who drove her away."

"Fine. I made her stop talking," Edward growled.

The following silence was crushing. It wasn't a long silence, but it allowed the uneasiness to grow and develop inside of her. All the happy that had invaded her body was stamped out as the silence slowly wore on, suffocating her. There was a lead wave of dread washing over her body and she wanted to vomit, but there was nothing in her stomach to retch. Worst of all was she didn’t know why she was so nervous.

Edward's voice, soft and distant, came like a punch in the face, "Why don't you go in there and get her talking again? Get her to eat out of your paw like all the others?"

"W-what?" Crowe seemed overly excited all of the sudden, but like he was trying to hide it.

She started to shake. This...this was a dream! No wonder she had been allowed to feel that happiness, to experience that feeling of a laugh in her mouth and a smile on her lips, it wasn’t real! This wasn’t really happening!

Clearly even asleep she couldn’t be happy for long, something had to be ruined.

"Wha--You mean to open the door?"

"Yeah? Why not?"

Her breathing became shallow and rapid.

This wasn't happening.

No alignment of the sun and stars would ever have this happen.

Why would the universes do this to her? She who had been subjugated to her father's hand and body, then forced to murder or be murdered? She who was faced with the kingdom from her act of self-preservation at fifteen, she who was faced with sending her sick brother to war or go in his stead. She who failed, thrown, prodded, touched, forced. Why would this—

"What....what about his highness?"

"It's just us, Crowe, and goddamn it someone has to get the bitch talking and you have a gift for making women babble. There's two of us, even with your injury we can still get this thing open and closed again."

"And you don't want..?"

"I'm not interested in women or sex or any of it. You are, though, certainly, right?"

"Y-yes—wait, not interested in women??"

"Crowe! Stuff it! I'll shut the door and let you out when you're done and keep watch. Just go in there, just go prompt her into talking again however you feel best."

Cecil's hearing tunneled, shrinking until it sounded like a muff wrapped around her ears, her breathing felt like it was coming with a weight pounding into her lungs, and her thoughts scrambled through her mind, she couldn't focus on one single one.

The thoughts all jumbled together and made messy ideas in her head, like it passed through her mind that she shouldn't be on her bed, she should hide, she knew this room, she could hide! Another thought came to mind that she wasn't breathing right and she shouldn't be moving that something was wrong.

The last thought fizzled out because the moment she stood up, she collapsed to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter, as you might guess, is a little much. Dubious consent at worst though, just, treat with caution.


	10. Chapter 10

The door! The door was opening, opening, and where was Hiro? Eating his own shit that’s where! The thought rang in his ears as he and Edward struggled to lift the bolt. He couldn't wait to feel her holding onto him, whispering, moaning, her small body convulsing with pleasure, her little perfect lips cursing in his ear.

It was going to be perfect, he couldn't wait to show her what a man he was and all this passion kitchen ladies praised him for.

Gods, he was going to be so gentle with her. Show her what a fake His Highness was, show him what it really meant to love her. For every time His Highness threw her on the ground, he was going to kiss her and if he could muster up some romance, he’d tell her all the sweet things he thought about her when he was alone. She was going to melt in his arms, melt at his words, his touch, his lips.

First, however, first he was going to show he hadn't forgotten how she'd used him for attention, how she'd made fun of him, belittled him. No, no, he hadn't forgotten everything he wanted to take from her, everything he wanted to make her suffer for. He was going to make good on his threats, but not in a way that he’d have to be cleaning up after for months. He was simply going to gently remind her that he was her maker, the her god her world, that if she still breathed it was because of him, and that he was going to take care of her.

First he’d make her quiver, then he’d make her adore him, only to make her beg for more…he could do it.

Edward and him carried the bolt, with great difficulty, across the small room and set it down, as quietly as they could, against the wall. They were both panting slightly, the dead bolt could be lifted by two men, but it certainly wasn't easy by any means. The only way they had managed to lift it at all in the first place had been because Edward had the strength of three men easily. Ze hardly did any lifting, and despite the fact his wounds were near healed he was still faint in the arms.

While they stood there panting Ze watched the door his hips and legs sore already from wanting to get in there and take his spoils, get his reward. The door was going to be open and he still had to wait to touch her and take her and do everything he'd dreamed and wished and cursed that he would do.

Edward looked at Ze and nodded, reasserting the plan they had discussed before the going at the deadbolt. Edward was going to stand halfway down the stairs and stop anyone who came up.

Periodically he would come up and remind them to hurry up. He'd warned Ze that thirty minutes would be pushing it get in, get out as quick as possible.

Ze assured Edward he understood, trying not to grin, trying not to be too excited. Especially since Edward would remind him every ten minutes of how excited he’d been. To Edward wanting to fuck someone beautiful was a stupid reason to be excited.

Returning to the door, Ze asked Edward to leave the door open long enough for him to get her and get control of her, Edward agreed.

They pulled on the handle of the door, it made a loud creaking noise, and to their relief it didn't echo. Ze's hands started to shake and his heart was racing. He abandoned the door and pushed his way past Edward, he wanted her so badly, he wouldn't wait, he couldn’t wait!!

Stepping into the room he felt a wave of freezing air rip through his body and cut down his throat.

He'd seen that step and he'd placed her food down that step, but it hadn't registered with him that this room was on a different level than he was used to standing on and he stumbled into the room. Although it was barely a foot drop it felt like he’d dropped into a bottomless pit. The darkness was heavier than normal darkness, the light from the open door could barely penetrate it.

Behind him Edward chuckled, but Ze almost couldn't hear him, everything in his body was her, her and her again. As soon as he caught himself from being afraid of a small room and lame darkness, all he could think about was getting her and getting her in his arms.

Mostly because initially he couldn't find her, he expected her to be on her bed or by the door or somewhere obvious, he suddenly noticed all the sudden how crowded the room really was. Goddamn so many things were becoming obvious and apparent to him now. Like how much furniture was in this room. All the walls were covered with tattered, ratty, old tapestries, yet it was still bone chillingly cold. The walls were also crowded with chests, drawers, a broken ass vanity and beau, not to mention the table with its mismatched chairs and stools--wait, was that her?

Collapsed just between the table and the bed, near hidden by the table and a chair, that was her, it looked as though she'd fainted.

Too excited, he chuckled, he made his way over to her, she was stirring slightly, trying to regain consciousness. He paused over her, glancing at Edward, then back to her, and back to Edward again. Edward patted his hands together and ushered him on, but it just seemed like a dream, like a cleverly concocted dream in his head. It just seemed suspiciously simple.

All he had to do was reach down and pick her up, simple as that. Just reach down and pick her up.

He knelt on one knee and made to pick her up around her shoulders and knees, but as soon as he touched her, felt her stiff, frozen body, his hands shot off her like a hot plate. He knew she was alive, but she felt so stiff and cold, she kind of felt like—like something? Something awful something terrible. He could vaguely understand that she was moving, that she wasn’t that, but it felt like was. Now that he was next to her he was suddenly acutely aware of the smell coming off her, just strong enough and reminiscent enough that she could be…that she would be.

It felt like he was going to faint himself, but Edward hissed at him from the door, “Hurry up, you shit!” Snapping him from a spiral of memories and reminding him that he wasn't where he kind of felt like he was; telling him that he was okay. Ze nodded, more to himself than to Edward, but Edward told him to quit bobbing his stupid head and get going already.

Ze grasped her again, she was stirring more now, holding her head and trying to sit up, and before she could even fully realize what was going on he lifted her easily. She must weigh…ten pounds…he told himself, cradling her easier than sacks of potatoes from the kitchen.

He didn’t hold her for long, setting her down in the middle of the big soft bed and a trill in his stomach returned as he clambered on top of her, straddling her hips.

He just wanted to stare at her forever. She was dying, yet still looked like a goddess, he made to touch her face, but realized he was still wearing his fur lined gloves. As he paused to pull at his gloves Edward pushed the door shut and the two of them were enclosed in near absolute darkness. The outline of her face was just barely illuminated by the square of light from the window in the door.

The darkness forced him to realize how uncomfortable he suddenly was, setting his gloves beside them on the bed. The barracks were pitch black at night, yeah, as they were underground, but this darkness was different. The barracks were notably warmer, for one, and there was always at least two other people in there with him. But with her and his woman it was just the two of them in this freezing darkness...it was inexplicable, really, but it was like they were in an unfamiliar, empty room, large, filled with the unknown. Ze looked around him, over at the door. It looked foreboding, the window was like a threat, almost, anyone could be hiding and watching them, and they would be none the wiser.

He tried not to let it occupy his thoughts, seeing as the woman was turning and waking beneath him. Her entire body went brittle and stiff for a brief pause before she let out a soft cry and started to push, attempting to thrash—

"No no n o, please, no no—!" she spluttered as she started to cry, gods she could certainly weep. Cried over anything anymore and here she was sobbing again, "Please, no, please—!"

"Shhh, shhh," he whispered pressing her fighting arms down to the bed firmly and leaning over her, "Shh, it's okay, it's okay."

"No, no, no, please don't do this to me, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"That's good to hear," he whispered, leaning down into her neck, "Lower your voice, shhh, be quiet, we don't want anyone to hear us, might have to invite some others if you don't shut up," he enunciated the last bit quite sharply. She immediately hushed her no's and sobs, electing only to whimper softly.

Ze had no intention of letting anyone else come close to her like he was with her now, but she had to be kept quiet somehow.

"Please.." She tried again softly, her body twisting beneath him, legs contracting and pressing against his own legs and his backside, it really only made him want her more, and gods, there was so much he wanted of her. It was hard to quell his desire to hurry up and claim her, fulfilling his old fantasies because at the same time he wanted to take his time, spend it kissing, touching, and taking her. Keeping her for himself. Annoyingly, he both didn't have enough time to do that, nor did he trust her enough to keep her harsh hands to herself or to touch him back. For now he just had his hands around her thin wrists holding her down.

In his own demonstration of restraint and desire just to move on with it, he let go of her wrists, sliding his hands up over hers, entwining his fingers between hers.

She whimpered again and held her fingers stiffly from his before letting them limply fall over his, he wanted to praise her for complying, but he just kissed her neck and rearranged her on the bed by moving his knees.

"You smell like me," Ze smiled into her skin, she had her head turned away from him and was taking in careful, fearful breaths. That meant she’d been wrapping up his cloak like he wanted, more intimate like this she smelled sweeter. Despite his soft words, she whimpered again, “Shhh, I’m not going to hurt you,” he mumbled, “I know what I said, but I'll be soft and nice, I promise."

He wasn’t sure what he expected her response to be, but more crying and rejuvenated attempts to escape wasn’t it.

"Shh, stop crying, stop, stop, stop, why are you crying??" He whispered urgently. He was being very slow and gentle, yet she was sobbing worse than before, still trying to get away from him. He let go of her hands and moved them to her face, cupping her cheeks. She shook her head and grabbed his wrists, staring up at him and they were so close he could almost see that blue that had made him so angry so long ago.

"Please do-n't," she managed to mangle out in a gasp, she didn't pull at his hands though, just squeezed him.

"Shhh, shh it's okay, shhhhh," Ze whispered leaning down to kiss her forehead and eyes, "Shh it's okay, I won't hurt you, I promise, you'll enjoy it, just me and you, it'll feel nice."

"I don't want it—please—"

"No, come on, now, I'm different," he moved his hips, gods he couldn't focus with her crying like this. He was on a mission to take her and get what he wanted, but she was so consuming, he couldn't have her if she was crying, he couldn't do anything if she was crying. She had to want it like she wanted no other. This wasn't going at all like he thought it might and he didn't know if he had time to re-work her around until he got the woman he wanted, "Shh I don’t want to hurt you, I want to be gentle with you, stop crying."

"No, nooo…" she blubbered, shaking her head and digging her nails into his wrists, "No, no…noooo…..no….."

"Shh, no, no it's okay, I'm not like him," he murmured as he leaned down kissing her cheeks and eyes and forehead, in a fashion that was grossly affectionate, something he'd never thought he'd choose to be with her, "I'm not like him, I won't hurt you, I'll be gentle and soft. You'll love it, I promise, shhh, no no, stop crying," she turned her face away from his kisses, she continued to blubber her hideous tears, he sighed crossly. He wanted to be soft with her, but she just wouldn’t stop blubbering, he couldn't think straight and despite near laying on her perfect, soft, slender body, he found himself losing his drive to take her, he couldn't stand the thought of her crying and sobbing like this while he was trying to enjoy himself and make her love him like he so desperately wanted.

Wait, not that. Just, not quite…love…he wasn’t so sure what he wanted from her was…love.

It burned in his chest, but the tender act of kissing her quiet, feeling her sobs shudder and calm as he moved her hair from her face, it was all really nice. The words he'd held in his head when he was alone, when he was thinking about her, the words he'd swear to always keep to himself, found their way out of his mouth, whispered against her skin, "I would do anything to keep you away from him…I would fight every beast in the land to get you from this room to be mine and mine alone. I won't hurt you, I'll never hurt you again."

As he babbled on, lost on her body, she softened, let him fall even more against her, released his hands, released them to trail her body, run through her hair.

He thought he would never take another maid, scullery or kitchen wench again. He would give up their bodies forever to just keep this moment with her. She was everything he'd imagined, and now that she'd calmed, stopped crying, loosened to his touch, she was even more than he'd wanted.

"Y-You don't like Hiro, d-do you?"

Her voice, soft and fragile, startled him, brought him from his euphoria from kissing her skin.

"He’s an ass." Ze fit his arm under her hips, lifting his own just enough to pull her closer, pull her into position, "He doesn’t deserve the throne he sits on, let alone you.” He refocused his attention as he began to pull her dress over her legs, kissing what he could of her chest, trying to simultaneously pull that down, "He comes and violates you, kisses you, touches you, and then expects you to just hand him everything he wants," Ze's voice sunk from bitter to even more bitter, "He made to embarrass you, every time he opens that fucking door he pulls your clothes off for all the guards to see, he's done nothing to deserve to touch you, he’s done nothing to deserve anything he wants from you."

She'd stiffened and softened again beneath him, her hands on his shoulder, pushing slightly, just enough to nudge him to prop on his elbows, look down at the little illuminated picture of her face, "Did you mean all that you said..?"

This time he stiffened, he'd been half out of his mind, drunk on the mere thought of her, how much had he really told her? He wasn't sure now.

"Would you really...Would you free me from this room?"

He smirked to himself, she was so vulnerable, so ripe for him to rip to pieces, she'd give anything if he answered her right, "Anything, I'd do anything to have you mine forever."

"Do you...Do you know who I am? Has Hiro told you..?"

"Everyone knows who you are," Ze shook his head, baffled at her choice of words, "You're of the lost kingdom??" He was bewildered, all the times he’d beat her dry demanding she give up her secrets and she thought he wasn’t paying attention? She wasn’t that beautiful.

She shook her head, "I'm not."

"You are," Ze insisted.

A bang on the door startled both of them, Edward's face filling the window and his voice the room, "Crowe, it's been fifteen minutes, hurry up!"

"I'm almost done, you shit, give me time, this takes time," Ze shouted back at Edward, pushing up on his arms.

"You don’t have time, just fuck her and get back out here," there was a note of urgency to Edward's voice which Ze also felt inside himself. They both didn’t want to be caught and risk hanging by their thumbs. Edward definitely didn’t want to suffer for Ze’s pleasure.

"Just a little bit more, okay?"

"Fine," Edward huffed and disappeared, light filling the room again.

Ze returned to the woman, rattled slightly, he took a breath before making to kiss her, actually kiss her, which he realized with frustration he had yet to do, "I don't care who you are, I just want—"

"Wait—" she stopped him, his lips pressed to her fingers, he sighed in frustration.

"I don't care who you are," he growled, roughly grabbing her wrist and once more pinning her hand to the bed, "It's not about who you are—"

"What if—What if who I was meant you—you could have me every night, wh-whenever you wanted? You would never have to work again—what if we could be together if you rescued me..?"

He felt a trill roll through his body, she had effectively caught his attention, he had no idea what she could possibly mean, though. He leaned back and sat up, considering her, "What do you mean?"

"Hiro hasn't told you who I am..? At all?"

"I told you, you are of the lost kingdom!" Ze growled in frustration.

She merely shook her head again, "Do you...know my name at least?"

He blinked, he didn't know her name, no one knew her name, she was 'The Woman in the Tower' or 'The Woman of the Lost Kingdom' to everyone, including him, she had no name. He considered her quietly, she moved a free hand to rest on her chest, her lovely small, distractingly firm breasts, "No...I don't..." He mimicked the movement and set a hand on one of her wonderful breasts.

"My name is Isabelle..." she started slowly, and at first it didn't register with Ze what she meant, what that name meant. She was watching him with a careful eye, waiting for him to catch on before she continued, "...Queen Isabelle."

He felt his jaw drop and he quickly retracted his hand from her chest.

"You...you're the..?" He stuttered trying to register what she had just said, "You're not, there's no way..."

She struggled to sit up, pulling herself back weakly as she did, "Hiro captured a noble woman from the war he wages against my kingdom and here I am."

"You..." Ze near couldn't process it, near couldn't process it, yet everything did make sense. It was fairly common knowledge in the castle and countryside that His Highness wanted the throne, and in effect wanted Queen Isabelle, more than anything. No one ever thought he'd get close to her, thus he settled on this woman. Did he really lapse forward and this was the Queen? He and His Highness were competing for the not only the same distracting woman, but they both were craving a queen??

Ze’s determination that he was more deserving of this woman than His Highness suddenly seem very…wishful and grandiose. He was a low ranking guard at best, the adopted mess of a cook and a doctor at best. His Highness had royal blood somewhere in his lineage, he was at least playing the same game as this woman.

Oh god, he’d beat THE Queen and stolen from her. Oh gods, there was no hope for him, was there? An easterner…noble woman caught in a war, the cursed blue eyes, how had he been so dumb? All the signs were there and he’d blatantly bulldozed over them. Yeah, sure she was trapped in a tower, but she had more power in the afterlife! She’d send him to hell for what he did to her.

He stared down at her fearfully, too afraid to even climb off her lap.

She didn’t seem as disturbed as him, mirroring his attempts to comfort he by touching his face gently with her cold hands, "If you were to rescue me from Hiro...return me to my kingdom...you could have me whenever you wanted...every night on my feather bed and silk sheets." She paused to take a deep breath before continuing, "You would be my…consort."

"Your consort..?" He felt a greedy smile on his lips, his previous fear dissipated at the offer, "How do I know you won't behead me as soon as I return you? How do I know you are true to your word?"

"My brother is dying, if he is not dead, my parents both assassinated and my sisters dead, all I have left in the world is the ring which you took from me, my brother had made it for me, a jewel from his own crown. I would do anything to have that ring back, if you were to hide it from me and I were to kill you how would I ever get it back?"

The smile deepened on his face, spread across his chest to where the ring hung from around his neck. He’d been half a panic from giving it back, but he had a better reason to keep it now. In a bout of resurgent confidence, he grabbed her hips, pulling her back against him, she wasn't short, she was near as tall as he, but she was so tiny in his arms as he laid them down again. The Queen! He had the Queen in his arms, begging for him to be her consort, begging him quite literally. He was giddy, and suddenly very, very confident this would all work out in his favor, "That's not enough," he whispered, looking down at her, moving a hand to her chin, keeping her eyes aimed on him, "Seal it with your body, let me know you truly mean what you say by giving me your body. First."

Her hand, which had fallen to his chest, squeezed the fabric of his tunic, balling it in her hand, he grinned, shifting the ground back in his favor.

"You'll have my body if you free me from this room," she enunciated in a voice she had certainly used to get her way with every lowly being before. Gods, everything about her made so much more sense and he wanted her that much more because of all of it. She was suddenly more confident as well, he noted, “All you needed from me was for me to talk for your partner, I’ll d that.”

"I don’t care about him, who cares if he gets what he wants—I want you now, tell me you mean what you say," Ze traced her sides, pulling her closer still, "I want you now."

"You'll have me now and never again or you'll wait and have me every night until you die.”

He growled and gripped her sides, she spoke with assurance, a soft deadpan which left no room for arguing, if he had her now he'd never have her again if she could help it.

"Fine, fine," he hissed, "At least your mouth, let me have that much…please? Just a short kiss?”

She turned her eyes away, turned them down to her lap, returned them to his, the light just barely over her eyelids as they turned this way and that. As they returned to his, he didn't need her yes or her nodding head, he was going to kiss her whether she wanted his lips or not.

He pressed his lips to hers with a passion he had yet to dig from himself, a passion he handpicked just to show her that she was going to be his, no question, no falter, he would get her from this room even if he died. His arms made their way around her body, pressing her to him, grabbing her body, laying her back down. Gods he wanted her so fucking bad, he almost couldn't control his hips pressing against her, his hands in her hair, she wasn't stopping him either, she had to want it. Felt his lips on hers and realized it was cruel to make them wait for something they both wanted so desperately.

She was sweet and soft, her entire body, her lips, her breasts, her everything, he wanted it all right then and there. He couldn't help himself again, he started whispering whatever he could to her whenever he parted for air from her perfect lips, "I'll be gentle with you," he would begin, and then when he returned he'd remember her offer of eternity with her body and he'd add a, "Every beast, every man won't keep me," his legs hurt pushing against her. He wanted her with all he had, he wanted to take her back to his bed and hide her, have her every night, "Every night," he murmured, "You'll be mine every night."

Ze would have returned his lust for her lips after, but he froze, remembering the assuredness in her voice. She didn’t want him every night of her life, she wanted him to lapse and break a promise like a weak peasant. Damnit! He was really fucking tempted to just do it, too.

He licked his lips, gazing down at what he could see of her sprawled beneath him. Cruel bitch...she was a cruel queen, she would have let him keep going, too, he knew it.

He traced his finger along her jaw gently before he reluctantly moved himself off of her, he could wait, he could, he could wait to have her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun note! Edward is Asexual and homo-romantic but he's really not interested in anyone. He's also kind of a dick, like your asshole uncle. 
> 
> Also...the next chapter (if i remember correctly i literally wrote it about a year and a half ago, so. This is the last chapter I wrote in 2k14 when i started this fic.) is not only Hiro heavy, but it's personally more rapey than this chapter. So. Fair warning, it's not going to get much better than this.


	11. Chapter 11

Everything smelled like him.

Her bed. Her clothes. Her skin. Her body. His cloak. His gloves.

The smell was comforting in a twisted way, it was the only thing that didn’t smell of dust and death when even she smelled of dust and death.

Now that he was gone and she was alone on her bed, she wished she hadn't run him off. The room had returned to its aura of void with him gone. When they were together she felt like the darkness was smaller and less imposing.

She wanted him back, she wanted him back in her bed, wanted him back holding her, touching her softly. He was so warm and so strong and so many things she felt a onslaught of sudden intense, lonely desire for. Her mind opted to forget how he'd held her to the bed and kissed her, laying himself on her without her permission, feeling his erection ground into her legs and hips, his hands obsessively grabbing what little she had to present. And she elected to forget the concussion she'd sustained from his beating, his percussion of slamming her head into the door until she fell. She forgot he stole from her everything in the world. She'd forgotten his groping hands, his cruel silence when all she wanted was someone to keep her company.

Instead she remembered his soft promises, his promise to make her feel good, to be gentle, to save her. She knew in her hearts of hearts that she wasn't going to be saved by his hand, and even if she was, she knew it wouldn't be a life worth living...however…She also believed. In her heart of hearts she believed he wanted to save her, he wanted to make her feel good and have sex, nothing but that.  
When he'd left her flayed out on the bed with that teasing touch on her chin and an erection in his pants she watched him leave. Eyes following his silhouette in the doorway, his strong shoulders, tall, lean body. She wanted him to look back, wanted him to look at her, look what he'd done, think of her.

He didn't.

She rolled into a ball on her bed when the door was shut again, wrapped in his cloak under her blankets. She could only just hear Edward comment on his missing gloves from beyond the door. She waited, with a bit of humor in her heart, waited for Edward to comment on the erection that would have been gone if he'd raped her. Waited for him to comment on the erection that was very not gone.  
Cecil took that moment to briefly wonder…had her guard had ever touched himself while outside her door. She wasn't sure why she thought of this. There was no reason for him to be so incredibly aroused. As if a wall and arithmetic was so arousing. Silence and a stone wall certainly didn't paint erotic images in one's head. She wondered if Crowe would try to masturbate with Edward out there.

Edward, still out there, asked of her, asked if she had been fixed, asked if she'd been righted, Crowe answered, assured him he had, but she needed to rest. Tomorrow, he said, Tomorrow she would talk.

Edward must’ve been a fool.

Tomorrow came and she woke to the sound of the bolt being lifted from the door. She responded quickly, shoving the cloak and gloves far under her blankets and sitting up.

It was ridiculous, really, but she smoothed her smock as she waited for the door to loom open. There really was no need, she wasn't going to be tricking any fools into believing she wasn't sleeping in this pitiful, ripped dress. It was, though, engrained in her very heart to do what she could to look okay. Less for the eyes that looked on her and more for the body the clothes wrapped around, she wouldn't let a simple gray dress, too short and rumpled, snip the last little cord that kept her royal status suspended in air. That kept her sanity suspended as well.

She waited for the door open, her fingers balled tightly around her dress.

Everything smelled like him.

She could still smell the scent of hay and musk on her body (she could feel his hands on her body), everything hung with the scent of something other. Something that very palpably wasn't her.

Her hands shook in fear. A part of her still ripe with pride mocked her for her fear. Fear Hiro? The short man with dull dirt hair, the voice mocked her as her eyes watched the shadows of men beneath the door, the man who begged for his title?

You fear him.

Yes. She feared him so much. She feared his lips. She feared his body, his searching hands that squeezed her and held her down, the hands she'd fought so hard to keep off her only to deliver herself with tethered hands to his door.

Just open the door Hiro, she grimaced watching the door and the shadows and the time pass, just open it and let me cower.

Five minutes past, five minutes waiting for the door to open! Just open it, Hiro! Just open it, please, she couldn't stand there and wait, not after yesterday, not ever again. Please. Please! Just open it... she could hear voices murmuring behind the door, but none of the voices seemed to fit the boom Hiro, like herself, had adapted to talk to the commons. She dared not move closer to the door to try and hear what was being said, however, she couldn't bear to stand there and wait.

Suddenly, without any warning or indication, the door was ripped open, blinding her from the sudden light.

Cecil uncovered her eyes, and despite the sudden light and the fear distorting her vision she knew the three figures coming after her were not Hiro, nor men at all.

Cecil leaned away, holding her hand out, "Stop," she commanded weakly.

To her amazement, they stopped, looking between themselves nervously, was she still that commandeering? Or were they just as scared of her as she was of them? Pathetic...

The three women shared nervous looks.

Why had women come to her? She looked beyond them and saw Crowe and Edward, watching her with gross, lazy expressions. She tried not to linger, tried not to wish it was a soft gaze, a loving gaze, tried to move her eyes off quickly. Her eyes slowly returned to the women, now more with confusion than fear, she moved her eyes to and fro between them.

"Where is Hiro?"

The maids looked between one another, still frozen in their spot, then looked back to the men pathetically.

"He sent for you," Crowe spat crossing his arms, bumping Edward as he did, Edward gave him a look, but held out a piece of paper.

Cecil, now faced with the prospect of leaving the room, crossed her arms protectively, "I'm not--"

The looks received from all those in the room and those watching was enough to stop her from continuing, but she held firm where she stood.

"I will not leave unless Hiro is here."

"It's not up to you, now is it?" Edward drolled, "Get up for the maids or I'll come get you myself."

"You cannot force me to leave in wake of some silly little message written in gibberish," Cecil balled and un-balled her fingers nervously. She couldn't read their language, she could barely speak it sometimes, but she certainly couldn't read it, the note would mean nothing to her, the note probably meant nothing to them.

Her legs were sore with pain, if she'd been standing she would have fainted. The three maids before her were still pathetically frozen, looking between the men outside the door and back to Cecil. Cecil joined them in their looks, equally as nervous and pathetic, looking at the men who held their ever bored, ever annoyed expressions.

Crowe, notably, looked especially annoyed, scowling and staring, almost aggressively, at anything but the room.

Edward...was terrifying. He watched her with thirsty, violent eyes. She had no idea what to expect from that man, first she thought him friendly, then he sent a dog on her, yet claimed he had no personal interest in her? His expression watching her from across the room was dangerous. He wasn't lean like Crowe, he was larger and taller, even more so than Crowe...definitely taller than her…He was wider than Crowe as well...stronger…beastly.

He was daring her to incite his wrath and she was balking at denying him.

"I'm gonna give you one more try, bitch," Edward barked, "Get the fuck out of that bed or I will come and force you out."

"What does the note say," Cecil wavered, her body quivering with fear.

"Do you think I can fucking read this?" Edward pushed off the doorframe, filling the shape easily, "It's in goddamn ching chong nip nong."

"It's in Cantonese?" Cecil wobbled up eagerly.

"Yeah whatever you want to call it."

Cecil hesitated, her feet were blistered from the cold and it would hurt intensely to walk over there. Not to mention there were two men before her and if she crossed the room there would be three women behind her. She'd be trapped between Hiro's pawns.

"Do you want it?" Edward asked, his tone changing from aggressive to interested. Her eyes flicked to him from the paper he held in his hand.

"Yes I do," she assured herself, wobbling, skittering, and limping past the women. The approaching men were...incredibly big...she defied herself never to glance at her guard, to keep her bobbing vision on Edward and his note.

Cecil stopped before them and reached out to hold onto the doorframe and take the note from his hand. Her eyes glanced up at the burly, bearded man as she did. He had dark, dark brown eyes

Unfriendly, dark eyes. She took the paper and tore her eyes away. He loomed over her and used the full foot taller step to his full advantage.

He wouldn't let her focus and read, he immediately began talking to her, "You're a waif, you're not at all what I thought you'd be," he tapped her chin to get her to look at him, "Stabbing a man while you're just a sapling."

"Don't-!" Her eyes snapped up to him icily and he appeared startled, taking a step back, "Don't ever touch me again."

She continued to lock eyes with him, defying him to come closer.

Thankfully, you big dumb IDIOT, he didn't, lucky, lucky.

She turned her attention to the paper, the soft pattering of the women drawing in behind her set her on edge, but all she needed focus on was reading.

Three women should be in the room, she read aloud softly in Cantonese, they are to bathe you. They are to take you to clean you and make you presentable. Presentable for what? They will veil you. They will also return you to your room later tonight.

"What does it say," Edward demanded, she looked up at him.

"Let me read," she gave Edward a stern look, definitely overstaying her welcome with being commanding with him.

Cooperate. It will all go better if you co-- she felt a soft touch on her face, a finger gingerly tracing along the sensitive healing skin from her beating. She looked up slowly full in the face of her guard. She turned her head from him, away from his finger, "Don't touch..."

"Sorry."

She waved his hand away, unnerved by his blatant touching, she turned her eyes back to the note. It will all go better if you cooperate with me. What.

"What does it say," Edward demanded again.

"It says," she decided to comply, "I have to go with these maids."

"Oh does it now."

"Yes it does," she willed herself to ignore both men to look the women behind her, "You are to veil me?"

One women gathered the courage to nod, "Yes, veil you."

"Let us, then," Cecil nodded and motioned them closer, too weak to go to them.

They quickly placed a heavy veil over her, veiling themselves as well.

Nonchalantly they led her from the room and down the tower, as if this wasn't monumental. As if this wasn't the first time leaving the cold confines of the tower in what felt like an eternity. They held onto her as she was incredibly weak, near unable to walk down the stairs by herself. She relied on them through the castle, helping her walk.

They led her to a secluded room where they, anything but nicely, bathed her and brushed her hair. Ripping into her body with rough clothes, turning her skin pink with friction. They pinched her and pulled her hair as they tore the knots from it.

Amazingly, the most pleasant part of the bathing process was when they near drowned her in expensive eastern perfume. She gasped for air, only to be filled, nauseously, with the scent of her bed, the smell that used to be embedded in her skin. These women were vindictive in their treatment of Cecil, she must represent everything they hated, perhaps they thought the tower was pleasant, perhaps they weren't trying to be mean at all, simply lacked empathy.

They brushed her hair dry, pulling at it roughly, "You have beautiful hair," one remarked in awe.

"Thank you," Cecil replied softly.

There was soft laughter behind Cecil, soft, embarrassed laughter. Cecil returned to silence, her skin burning from the rough bath.

They returned to silence as well. Brushing her hair dry. Brushing her hair smooth. Long. Shiny. Beautiful. A shadow of the vanity Cecil had selfishly indulged in long ago. It seemed selfish now, staring at herself in mirrors. At the time she had nothing but a pretty face and rare blue eyes. She had thought, once, before she’d murdered her parents, to cut her hair and slash her face. She decided, instead, to slash someone else’s. Maybe it hadn’t worked out better in the end. Her past vanity got her here.

"I raise you a question," Cecil interjected into the silence.

"What?" One piped, "What do you want?"

"What is the occasion that I am being cleaned for?"

There was a deep silence behind her. Their hands even stopped from idly brushing her hair, feeling its softness, they had completely stopped, frozen in their places.

"We weren't told," one responded, first.

"His highness wanted you clean," another followed.

"He was very vague with us," the last interjected, "But he...wants you in his room tonight."

"Ah..." Cecil felt a tight knot pull through her heart. An empty feeling, her heart giving up hope. Her will to continue shriveling into nothing. She wasn't sure she could handle another man feeling her like that.

But she'd felt Hiro's hands all over her before, she'd felt his erection through his tunic, what would be the difference now? There was a note of hilarity to the situation, Cecil's psyche noted amidst her dysphoria. Hiro had tried to impress her with his willpower, that which he knew she thought little of. He'd gone through great lengths to show her that he could wait and that he would, and yet? Yet here she sat being prepared like a pig for devouring, he could hardly wait another moment.

Life appeared to be nothing but circles. Smaller circles inside larger circles inside more and more circles. Cecil tried running perpendicular to the circle and only ran into another circle. Spinning herself in her own circles going nowhere.

She would mock him if he were there. She'd known him years and he'd always been impatient when he had something he wanted. He could wait years for the perfect moment to kill her brother, but only 6 months of knowing the woman he wanted with ravenous desire was in his reach.

The servants began to talk amongst themselves and surely that was Cecil's voice replying in a soft, lilted tone, but she wasn't there. She wasn't there at all, or anywhere, Cecil was gone. She remembered this feeling, being half out of her body, completely out of her mind, it was old, it’d been years…almost ten…since she felt this nightly. Since then it had been a weird island she’d sailed into every few months on her careen through life. Lay in her bed and not be there. Feel Alex over her but not feel him.

No candles in the window, so to speak…

She always went to the ocean. To the island palace that was destroyed when she was fifteen. To her island lover her father murdered. Swimming in the ocean and laying in the shade with lemon water and saltwater.

It was a wonderful world where Hiro couldn’t go. He’d never even seen the ocean. He’d feel small next to the vast emptiness, emasculate next to this terror that could and would kill him with no remorse. A terror he could never conquer in his wildest dreams. It was immovable. He could move mountains and fell trees, but he could do nothing against the ocean and it was there that Cecil curled inside herself, protected by the destructive, protective ocean.

When she was like this she was the ocean. Unfeeling and unconcerned. Men could throw themselves at the ocean all they wished, it would never bow, it would never break.

Best of all…Hiro didn’t know she wasn’t there.

Hiro didn't know he'd broken her...Hiro didn't know he'd broken her.

He could imagine all he wanted that she was ripe and broken.

Hiro...didn't...know...

Hiro didn't know how lost she was in her own mind trying to block her deliverance to his bedchamber.

He could only guess and wish that her body lay sleeping and primed for him, devoid of a soul that watched from memories of other worlds.

He didn't know. He never had to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha I have the chapters finished its just like the desire to like....re-read something I wrote over a year ago and figure out how to make it work. This is definitely a filler chapter for something I didn't really want to write about, the next one is not only long, but probably one of my faves.


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